Come Hell or High Water

Of course we don't usually have such a clear conversation with God about what He is doing in our lives (or not doing), partly because everything is obscured by the mist of lies, and partly because the conversation happens rather in our actions than our words.  However, a writer must needs put into words such experiences, as for example when we face great trials and tribulations in our lives.  Also, it can help to illumine further truths about our journey by looking at reality bluntly expressed in the words of an ordinary conversation:

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Me: I'm going to do it come hell or high water.

Jesus: All right, if that's really what you want.

(He lets there be a little hell or high water, proverbially speaking:)

Me: Oh, Lord, take it away! I can't go on like this!

Jesus (gently): That's not what you said in the beginning. You could have said: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Me: Isn't that what I meant?

Jesus: Is it?

Me: Well...

Jesus: Or did you mean: "I've got this under control and I want to win the victory all by myself."

Me: ...

Jesus: I am with you always, but I will never force Myself on you.

The Ring of Power

"All we ever wanted was the illusion of control. But we have none, not really. And neither do the people around us who seem so intimidating in all their radiant perfection. Ultimately, we can all take comfort in the understanding that they're not actually perfect, and that none of us ever will be. We're not, as we've been promised, 'as gods.' On the contrary, we're animals but we think we're not animals. We're products of the mud."
 ~Will Storr, Selfie: How We Became So Self-Obsessed and What It's Doing to Us 

Now I would like to just leave those words there without further comment, as I think in many ways he has hit the proverbial nail on the head. However, since in doing so, he has bent the nail a bit sideways I feel it necessary not to remain silent and thereby express my consent.

We are not products of the mud. After all, if you multiply mud times mud I am quite sure you only get mud.  (Or maybe a mud square.)

Aside from the math jokes, we are in some sense from the mud: Dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return. However, we are more than animals. We may not yet be like gods—or at least we may not feel like gods—but we do have immortal souls and therefore are far more than animals. Yet we are still animals, influenced very much by our fleshly existence and our genetics and sometimes so much so that it seems like we have no free will at all.

Despite whether we think we believe in free will or not, we constantly act out our belief in it on a daily basis. We try to seize control of our situations whether by understanding why we feel a certain way, trying to keep our houses clean, or starting businesses or ministries to change the world.

It is as if the Ring of Power lies before us and we strive with all our might to seize it.  We are ignorant of its true meaning: that if we do indeed place it upon our finger, we shall then be bound in slavery to our greatest enemy who wants only our destruction.

 

We want to be like God. We want that power, that control, that ability to make something out of nothing.

At the same time, however, we do know our weakness and brokenness. We know we have no real control, but somehow we seek it anyway. Somehow we are not yet willing to surrender it all to the One who loves us more than we love ourselves and who knows all that was and is and ever will be. We prefer to seize power for ourselves, even knowing that it will never satisfy, and that it is in the end no more than a mirage.  This is enough for us:

"All we ever wanted was the illusion of control. But we have none, not really. And neither do the people around us who seem so intimidating in all their radiant perfection."

There is much comfort in realizing that and in knowing that we are not perfect and never will be so long as we walk this earth. In some sense, it lets us off the proverbial hook, at least if we will let ourselves off of it instead of clinging yet again to another illusionary idea of control. For a desire for perfection can itself be a desire for power and therefore a two-edged sword that will turn against us.

That is why we must let go even of that last vestige of illusion if we want to seek reality. Yet we do not always prefer the truth. We choose instead the darkness:

And this is the judgment: because the light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than the light: for their works were evil. (John 3:19)

Here it is we face the crux of our choice: we can will to descend into the darkness and surrender to the kingdom of evil or we can nail our will to the Cross, letting in the light and the Kingdom of God. Our will then is what matters and not our feelings of brokenness and inadequacy and hopelessness, for these are only feelings. Why they weigh us down, none can say, save the One who holds the universe in His hand and who stirs our hearts with longing for His presence, which alone can satisfy the deepest longings within us.

Our Only Comforter

As we honor today Our Lady, Mother of the Church, it seems fitting to speak of her Spouse, the Holy Spirit, in this afterglow of the great solemnity of Pentecost.  Specifically I would like to focus on one particular word describing Him.  While praying the novena leading up to Pentecost, one of His titles burst through the veil formed by the mundane repetition of having heard it said many times through my life:

Comforter.

I was listening to this Veni Sancte Spiritus when the word penetrated into the depths of my heart through the lyrics:

You are our only Comforter.

So many times we desire comfort to counter the trials and tribulations of our lives.  We look for the simple things—the reliable things—the coffee and cookies.

Of course we also look deeper.  We try to find happiness in fulfilling work, in relationships with those dear to us, in following our vocations, and so on.  Yet sooner or later all of these things fail to satisfy us.  The world will fail you left and right, as say the lyrics of the song "I'm Not Alone" from the singer Plumb.

Where do we look?

Everywhere except to the Holy Spirit.  After all, it's incredibly difficult to look at an invisible reality who happens to be the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity.  If you can find a way to look at Him, let me know.

I can't.  Although gazing at the beautiful alabaster image of the Holy Spirit symbolized by a dove in St. Peter's does help.

Looking to Him means opening ourselves to something beyond our control—it means letting go of control—abandoning our expectations.  We may find ourselves tossed on the seas of doubt and fear or joy and longing.  We may feel nothing.  Yet if we do dare to sink deep within ourselves, to stop looking outside, and to find Him within, we may just find that He gives the comfort that the world can never give.  For He gives the comfort of belonging, of being welcome, of being loved: the fulfillment of our hearts' deepest desires.  He gives the comfort of heaven—the comfort of our true home.

Of course He may not give it right away.  He likely won't give all the comfort we desire or at least not all the time.  Yet He can't give any comfort to hearts that are closed to Him.

If we will be patient and trust Him, we will experience comfort according to His promise.

It was the pouring out of the Holy Spirit that brought the Church to birth.  It is His pouring out of Himself on us today that brings us to birth as the Church—as the Mystical Body of Christ.  And it is Our Lady who is the Mother of Christ and therefore also the Mother of the Church.

Veni Sancte Spiritus! Veni per Mariam!

You Are in the Hands of God

“Do not become upset when difficulty comes your way.  Laugh in its face and know that you are in the hands of God.”

These words come from a wise and holy man often quoted in the letters of one of my favorite spiritual writers, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J.  That man is Saint Francis de Sales whose feastday we celebrate today and who is known as the patron saint of writers.

Although I do not know whether Saint Francis de Sales ever used the exact phrase "abandonment to Divine Providence" his writings are full of that reality, as the above quotation illustrates.  For in it he essentially proclaims the most radical surrender to God.  Not only does he prescribe accepting difficulties or learning to endure them, but he goes much farther when he says to laugh in the face of difficulty.

Who can laugh in the face of poverty?  Who even smiles at the death of a loved one?  Who could find joy in utter destruction in the wake of some natural disaster?

We are no better when it comes to the small things.  We complain constantly about the most ridiculous of trifles.  We become despondent when things do not go as we expect and begin to try to figure out what we have done wrong that might have led to such unfortunate results.

For we still think we are in control.

No matter how much we believe that God exists and that He is all-powerful, we still hesitate to believe in the insignificance of our power.  We still cling madly to the Ring of Power despite the fact that another controls our will through it.

Saint Francis de Sales knew better:

"Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day.  Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.  Be at peace, then, put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations, and say continually: The Lord is my strength and shield; my heart has trusted in Him and I am helped.  He is not only with me, but in me and I in Him.”

If we believe in the incredible power of God, in His infinite wisdom, and in His guidance of our lives, we need fear nothing.  We need not worry.  We can take joy in all the happenings in our lives and around us, knowing that God is using all for our greater good so long as we surrender our lives to Him.

We shall fall no doubt.  We cannot believe perfectly, frail human creatures that we are.

Yet Saint Francis de Sales had wise words on that reality also:

“God takes pleasure to see you take your little steps; and like a good father who holds His child by the hand, He will accommodate His steps to yours and will be content to go no faster than you.  Why do you worry?”

In all things, even in our surrender to Him, we can be content to continue making the effort.  We will fall, but we will get up.  Sometimes we will see the glory of all the little strands about us weaving together into a strong rope to lift us up into the brilliant light of the heavens.  Sometimes we will struggle along through the darkness, not knowing where we step.

“During the night we must wait for the light.” 

For at the opportune moment, He will intervene with a bright new dawn and in that morning we shall sing as we were created to sing.

Oh Providence

There are a great number of people who have difficulty believing in a good God based upon the evils that happen to them or to the world at large.  On the other hand, there are a great number of people who believe in a good God because of the good things that happen to them and how everything works out well for them—adherents of the ol' Prosperity Gospel as it were.

I try not to fall into the latter category.  I try to trust that everything happens for a reason and that everything that God sends me is indeed a gift no matter how difficult to handle.

A beautiful approach to life as a passive recipient, however, can become a mind-crushing vice in taking action.  As usual, I can best find examples from my life to illustrate my meaning: in this case, I have set out to create a work of art in honor of the Epiphany.  For weeks I have trusted that it would all come together even though I was lacking certain necessary elements (i.e. actors).  Now it seems a bit as if everything is falling apart.  What do I do?

I begin to wonder if that will be the cry of my life.  Is that not the cry of all our lives?  What do we do when things don't go as we expect?  What do we do when God does not provide what we think we need? We could give up.  We could decide it wasn't God's will after all.  We could take it merely as disappointment and try to thank Him for that gift.

Or we can go on.

Into the valley of death
Rode the six hundred.

For some reason lines from Tennyson's poem "The Charge of the Light Brigade" often come to mind in these times of struggle and darkness.

Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.

It isn't our right to command, nor to control the destiny of our lives or the lives of others.  We could flee in terror, cowards that we often are.  Or we can hold our ground, we can advance, we can charge forward when it seems like folly, when it seems that all is lost.  That is trust.  That is faith.  And that is one of the hardest things we can ever do.

What will He do with it?

That remains still to be seen, but He will do something glorious with it.  That we must believe.

When can their glory fade?