All I Need to Know

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, November 17th, 2024:
Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Mark
​13.24-32
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Jesus spoke to his disciples about the end which is to come:

“In those days, after the time of suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

“Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the Angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.

“Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the Angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

My mind summarized this passage with one statement: “I know everything, but you only know what you need to know.” Only God is omniscient. He knows why He created me, where I am going, how I will suffer, and the resolution to my suffering. He knows when the right time is for everything, how much grace I will require to move through the hard things, and the people I need to accompany me. He knows my limitations and temptations, my wounds and strengths, the source of my sorrow and my joy. He knows about the beginnings and the ends, too, and this aspect of His knowing is one He is unwilling to share with me, which often leads to my bitter dissension. 

Regardless of how these limitations of my humanity rub up against me, the truth is that in the unknowing, my best course of action is to draw as close to Him as I can, whether He is coming back tomorrow or a billion tomorrows from now. When I am in the unknown, I must lean into the One who knows. But when I consider the statement, “He is near, at the very gates,” how does this nearness actually make me feel? The fullest description of these feelings is outside of my capacity to articulate, but it leaves me with an overflow of emotion: joy, love, apprehension, curiosity, shame, excitement, regret, anticipation, trembling, elation, uncertainty. Perhaps all these feelings point to the fact that meeting my maker will lead to the answers I have long resented Him for withholding from me. Answers I thought I wanted, but in the end, perhaps, will be glad He held onto. 

The fig tree has answers to the changing of the seasons because this is something it needs to know for its survival. And if I’m paying attention, it also tips me off to a change that is imminent. These answers are written into the fabric of the tree according to the purpose God designed for it. The tree cannot, however, answer for me whether or not my children will grow up to know the love of God, or whether the Superstore will have butter on sale this week. These things are outside of its purpose. Yet the tree, however unknowing it may be, still remains at peace. 

God writes into the fabric of my being the knowledge necessary for me to move forward in this life through faith and reason, but not so much knowledge that I might stimulate the upset of the natural order of things, or cause my small brain to implode from the overwhelm of the all-knowingness. If I’m paying attention to what He is writing on my heart, I will know all I need to know. 

I know Him.

He has given me the answers to living peacefully, advocating in wisdom, loving unconditionally, and receiving joy. The answers to all these things – the only things I truly need – are in His Word. His Word who was in the beginning. His Word who will last beyond the end. 

Lord, I surrender ALL the “knowing” to You.




​Lori MacDonald

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