To Continue or Not to Continue, That is the Question

After spending Lent in various daily practices it seems strange to discontinue them, particularly the writing each day upon this blog.  As I ponder whether to continue, my inclination is to ask you, my readers, whether it is valuable for me to keep writing daily meditations to pass to you through the pixels of your screen.

Is it folly to thus ask for visible fruits?

We are called to give of ourselves, to give without counting the cost, to give without asking for any reward.  Surely then it ought to be unnecessary to consider whether my efforts draw you, dear seekers, any nearer to our Lord.  Yet I must needs dispense of the time given me wisely.

Discernment of this small piece of the time given me requires thought and prayer just as does every decision of our lives (although the quantity may vary substantially according to the weight of the outcome).  Sometimes we are given a clear answer in exterior circumstances or conviction that strikes our heart.  Sometimes, though, we have no illumination, but must choose to step forward in faith, hoping that in abandoning ourselves in the darkness we choose the right way, trusting that our Lord will guide our steps.

So I step on, pondering and seeking....

Green-Eyed Monster

Iago: O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:
But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

Othello: O misery!

~

Shakespeare was a brilliant man.  One need only feel the tearing effect of jealousy to know at once how truthfully his characters speak and how perfectly they enact the results of jealousy.

Throughout my life, I have found myself wanting to do everything—or at least everything that I perceive as good.  It matters little how many wonderful things I have done or how much I have accomplished, but as soon as I hear of someone else's amazing project I must be jealous.  I begin to wonder why others get to do all these spectacular things while I muddle along where I am.

Someone reminded me recently of how we all make up what is lacking in each other.  If I could do everything myself there would be no need of anyone else.  Yet because I cannot do everything—because after all I am not God—and because I am but one small part of the world's community, I must allow others to be good also.

Their goodness does not take away from mine.  Somehow jealousy twists us up inside so that we believe the opposite, but others' abilities can never lessen ours.

It is folly of course to draw our self-image from our accomplishments anyway, but of course we fallen creatures must persist in that folly.  Then we find ourselves crushed because someone else has done what we wished to do or is better at something than we are.  Yet there will always be someone we will perceive as better than we are at doing something we wish to do.  In such a populated world the statistics of that being true are incredibly likely.

However, that does not take away from our individual contribution.  No matter whether someone else may be better in a particular area, or even in all areas, we still have a part to play that no other can.  We may not know it, but the reality remains.

When we begin to know that reality with our hearts, then we can appreciate others' gifts and talents without jealousy.  That takes much humility.

Blessed John Henry Newman spoke beautifully of our personal vocations.  By reminding ourselves constantly that we are not our own, that we do not live for ourselves but for God, we shall gain greater confidence in accepting what we can and cannot do.  If I live to achieve something great for God, in the end it becomes about me and what I have done instead of what God has done.  Yet if I can truly live for Him, then naught else matters.

I will leave you with Newman's words:

God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission.
I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next.
I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons.

He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work.

I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place,
while not intending it if I do but keep His commandments.

Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever I am, I can never be thrown away.
If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him,
in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him.
If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him.
He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about.
He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers.
He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about.

"He that is proud eats up himself..." ~Shakespeare

Yesterday I began reading, in honor of the feast of Saint Thomas Becket, the epic verse drama by T.S. Eliot known as Murder in the Cathedral.  As I read, reflecting upon how deeply Eliot captured the struggle of the human heart, one question struck me in particular:

THOMAS

Is there no way in my soul's sickness,

Does not lead to damnation in pride?

Is not that the question of our lives?  Pride—that first sin, that greatest sin, that sin that makes good evil—plagues our pilgrim paths.  At the very moment when we think to achieve victory for God, we find ourselves working for our own glory and not His, surrendered to ourselves and not after all to Him.

I have heard that once one manages to conquer all the sins in the flesh—gluttony, anger, envy, lust, sloth, covetousness, and even pride—that one must then face these on a spiritual level.  The deeper one goes into God, the more the devil tries to bring him down.

What greater tool of destruction could there be than pride?  For if holiness is the presence of God within and union with Him, then the sin that chooses to exalt self on the altar of one's heart must of necessity shrivel holiness.  Yet how subtly it works!  It sneaks in so silently that we do not realize how much we have begun to rely upon ourselves, to glorify our own work rather than the will of God.

Especially when one like Saint Thomas Becket must choose to serve God rather than men, the temptation of pride comes.  The devil likes to turn back upon us all the good that we would do.  He wants us to act for God only out of our need to be great and at the same time to believe that we only act from our own pride and therefore are worth nothing before God.  What contradiction there!  Yet how many times have you found yourself caught up in similarly contradictory thoughts prompted by the evil one?

Sometimes it seems that wherever we turn, we see pride rear its ugly head.  It seems folly to resist and therefore can even bring us to the edge of the chasm of despair.

One time in prayer as I wrestled with that despair of freeing myself from pride, my Lord brought to my heart a beautiful and humbling thought: rather than fight pride by trying to destroy it, I must instead turn to Him, for pride will always be there.  In fighting it, we make it grow stronger.  Yet if we choose the good—and choose to turn to God—we will find that the dragon of pride begins to lose its power because we let God fight the battle and He always wins the victory.