Meditation on the Will of God

This evening, I sat with a bhakta of the Lord for a one-to-one satsang. We read Matthew 8:1–4.

To begin, I asked her how children usually request something from their parents. I gave three common ways:

1. Give me this.
2. If you wish, give me this.
3. I’m not sure you can this or not, but if you wish, please give this.

As a mother of three, she immediately said that her children mostly ask in the first way—straightforward and confident.

Then I pointed out something about the leper who came to Muktinath. Why did he say:

“If You are willing…”
instead of asking boldly,
“Lord, heal me.”

If the Lord had asked him, “Do you want to be healed?” he would definitely have answered, “Yes, Lord.” But if the Lord then asked, “Why didn’t you ask Me directly? Are you doubting whether I will heal you?”—the leper might have broken down, like others in the Gospels who cried:

“Lord, I believe—help my unbelief!”

Many New Testament stories show this mixture of faith and doubt. One striking example is the father in Mark 9:23–24 who says:

“If You can do anything, have compassion on us.”
And later,

“I believe; help my unbelief.”

Here too, the leper’s words reveal this blend—faith, desire, hesitation, and fear.

But there is more.

A Spiritual and Psychological Reading

A leper was not allowed to come near people, especially rabbis. He lived outside the city, cut off, isolated. When he approached Muktinath, he knew he was breaking social and religious rules. So even though he believed Muktinath could heal him, he wasn’t sure how Muktinath would react to his presence.

He had very little time.
He had only one chance.
He had no luxury to stand there and discuss theology.

So he compressed everything—
his need,
his fear,
his faith,
his doubt,
his respect for the Lord’s will—
into a single line:

“If You are willing…”

Muktinath, fully aware of his condition, fear, and urgency, did not ask him probing questions. In other places, Muktinath questioned people’s faith. But here, He simply said:

“I am willing.”
And healed him at once.

Why?

Because the disciples or the crowd might have chased the man away for breaking the Law. The Lord understood his psychology, his anxiety, his limited time, and the danger he faced. So He avoided any long conversation and healed him immediately.

This, for me, is also the psychological message hidden in the story.

Why Muktinath Told Him Not to Tell Anyone

After healing him, Muktinath strictly told him:

“Tell no one.”

Instead,

“Show yourself to the priest, as Moses commanded.”

Why this instruction?

Because joy and excitement can easily make a person act impulsively. The healed man may have run back to his people shouting, “Look! I’m healed!” But Jewish law required him to be certified clean before he could rejoin society.

Muktinath, honouring the religious sentiments of His people and the Law, told him to follow the proper path—not out of legalism but out of sensitivity.

This balance between:

• divine compassion,
• human psychology,
• and social/religious norms
  is what makes this passage so rich.

Reflections on Faith, Doubt, and Prayer

This raises a larger question:

How does God respond to our prayers?

Whether we ask directly,
or leave it to His will,
or approach Him with doubt,
like the leper or the father in Mark 9.

Children help us understand this.
Imagine a mother saying:

“I don’t think you need this now.”

Immediately the child may say:

“You always say no to me!
You give to the other children, not to me!”

Suddenly “my brothers and sisters” become
“your other children.”

Sometimes the child even says:

“That’s why I ask Appa. He never says no!”

If the same attitude appears in our relationship with God, what happens? Our prayers become loaded with suspicion, irritation, comparison, and frustration—not lack of faith, but a cry from our psychological struggle.

We know God answers prayers.
But sometimes, His answer is:

“No.”

And our reactions reveal not our theology,
but our emotional condition.

Even I have prayed in dark moments:

“I don’t want to live tomorrow.
If I must live tomorrow, Lord, You better leave me alone.”

Such words don’t come from disbelief—they come from pain.

Prayer often exposes our psychological wounds more than our spiritual weakness.

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Songs of Surrender: Scripture and Personal Reflection

This struggle—between surrender, desire, doubt, and trust—is beautifully expressed in Tamil devotional tradition.

Two songs illustrate this deeply.

1. My Own Prayer (26–10–1993, Gonda)

Tamil

இது வேண்டும் அது வேண்டும்
என நிதம் பல வேண்டாமல்
எதை நான் செயவேண்டும்
என உளம் நீ கொண்டாயோ
அதையே நான் செய்ய வேண்டி
அருளை நீ தருவாயே!

Not asking for this or that,
Nor for a list of daily needs—
Whatever You hold in Your heart
As my purpose,
Give me the grace
To do only that.

2. Manikkavāśagar’s Kuzhaithap Paattu (Tiruvācakam)

Tamil (excerpt)

வேண்டத்தக்க தறிவோய் நீ!
வேண்ட முழுதும் தருவோய் நீ!
…
யானும் அதுவே வேண்டின் அல்லால்
வேண்டும் பரிசொன்று உண்டென்னில்
அதுவும் உன்றன் விருப்பன்றே?

Modern English Translation (not Pope’s old English)

You alone know what I should desire.
When I desire You, You give Yourself fully.
Though even Brahma and Vishnu struggle to reach You,
You desired me and made me Yours.
What grace did You give me when You chose me?
Whatever You gave—that alone is what I desire.
And if any other desire rises in me,
that too is only what You will for me.

This verse captures absolute surrender—
the bhakta letting go of personal wants
and trusting entirely in the Lord’s will.

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Conclusion

To know God’s will is peace—but that does not mean anxiety disappears.

In my life, I have found major decisions easier when made in community, with counsel and shared discernment. When decisions were made alone, the burden felt heavier.

This is the strength of bhakti as a mandali:

a shared search for God’s will,
a shared responsibility,
and a shared surrender.

Discerning God’s will remains a lifelong journey—not solved by doctrines alone, but understood through lived experience, through scripture, through psychology,
and through grace.

Closing Reflection

These insights help us see that this passage is not only about God’s will and healing, but also about the human heart—our fears, hesitations, doubts, urgency, and longing. The leper’s words, the Lord’s response, and the instructions that followed reveal a deep psychological journey: how a wounded person approaches God, how God meets us in our anxiety with compassion, and how spiritual life always balances personal emotion, divine grace, and the responsibilities we carry within our community. Looking at the passage this way helps us read the story not just as a miracle of healing, but as a mirror of our own struggles in prayer, surrender, and trust.

See related article: https://dayanandbharati.in/demanding-god/

Ashram, November 15, 2025