The Battle Is Not Yours

Conflict.  Pain.  Hurt.  Heartbreak.  Betrayal.

These tear us from within, gripping us in endless knots, shattering our self-wrought pretensions of security and confidence.  They challenge our perception that all is well and all will be well.

Sometimes it is worse when these things happen to those we love.  When we suffer we are so busy grappling with the raw emotions that we have little time to think or reflect.  In those moments, we struggle for control of ourselves or the situation, our desperation aimed toward some hoped-for goal.

If we see others in pain, we have no control.  We have no choices.  We are even more powerless than when we suffer.

That is why it is so hard to see those we love hurt.  In some ways, it strikes deeper to see wounds struck that we can never hope to heal, to see decisions made in anger, to see misunderstandings and pain erupt into a chasm of broken relationships that we cannot bridge.  We see the evils and we want to take them away, to soothe the burning heat, to wave away the stain of sins past that tinges every fresh choice and every perceived affront.  But we can do nothing.

Still we search desperately for some way that we can become the savior of the situation.  We encourage those who feel alone to rely upon us, we seek solutions to illness, we advise counseling or medication, we pray continuously for healing and conversion, we try to make others see the light because if only they could then all would be well, and on and on and on....

We do not want to admit that we can do nothing.

Yet it is not about us and what we can do.  If we are to achieve true sanity, we must let go of our need to fix things.

When we admit that we can do nothing, we set ourselves free from guilt and expectations—expectations, which so often swamp our small vessels—and allow God to be God.  He allows nothing evil out of which He cannot bring a greater good.  Where we cannot save, He can.  He is our Savior.  Many times we need only step out of His way and allow Him to do what He alone knows how to do: to heal the broken heart.

That means we stand ourselves broken and powerless.  We feel the pain that signals to us that something must be done and we simply acknowledge its presence.  We choose not to fill that hole we cannot fill.  We embrace our weakness.

For in weakness is the power of Christ made perfect, as Saint Paul said.

Somehow that paradox is true, but only because of Christ.  Our inability to do anything surrendered to Him allows Him to work.

The path of life does not follow a barter system: we do not give x to get y.  If we do, we will regret giving x and resent others who have y.  Sometimes we must hit rock bottom before we recognize this truth.  Yet when we come to the crux of it all and feel our powerlessness, we know it is true.

Even our prayers and sacrifices when performed only as a manipulation of God to make Him give us what we want—however good that for which we ask may be—are vain.  That is not love, but only self-interest disguised.

If we can let go of what we hope to gain and simply give, we can find joy even in the depths of pain.  It is the joy that rejoices in the darkness because we trust in the Ruler of all.  That trust—that surrender—allows our Lord to transform deeds once done as manipulation into gifts of love, freely given.

And there is nothing greater than love.

Reaching Out

So often fear binds us in our interactions with others. We find ways to shield ourselves: alcohol or virtual communications or certain attitudes and ways of presenting ourselves to the world that hide our true selves.

Of what are we so afraid?

We are afraid of rejection certainly. We are afraid of misunderstandings. Yet perhaps we are even more afraid of vulnerability.

What if we are more afraid that others will see us for who we really are instead of seeing the facade we present to the world? Do we fear more that they shall see the face behind the mask and the heart aching for love when we want to pretend that we are indomitable?

There is fear too of forcing others to respond out of politeness. Do we dare reach out to another who may feel himself bound to answer even when he does not wish to? If we make the initial effort, we never know if the other cares to deepen our relationship. So sometimes we wait, hoping that the other will make the first move. Yet what if we then wait forever?

Deep down we are all afraid. It is not fear that matters, but our response to it.

Day by day we form ourselves as cowards or as great warriors. It is not fear that distinguishes the two; it is action. The cowardly soul denies himself the will to act because of his fear while the courageous soul steps into the breach in the face of fear.

Verso l'alto!

Everything Leads to Goodbye

A while ago I had the opportunity to view a film of a theatrical production of Kiss the Moon, Kiss the Sun and one thing in particular that struck me was the phrase, "Everything leads to goodbye."  That reflected the experience of a disabled man, a major character in a quite beautiful story, but I will say no more about it so as to avoid any spoilers for those who may wish to experience the story for themselves.

Everything leads to goodbye.

That phrase has continued to echo in my mind these past months.  How much it reflects our experience of this life!

So many times people comment that they hate goodbyes.  Then they refuse to say goodbye and just say, "See you later," or some other trite phrase.  (Which in my opinion is a trifle silly, as the origin of goodbye is simply "God be with you," a beautiful wish for anyone, and implies no end, but thus the corruption of language.)

How silly we are sometimes to try to hold on so hard.  We try to preserve the past with hordes of pictures and memorabilia that we scarcely ever bother to look back at and then we complain prodigiously about the amounts of stuff we have.  We are always trying to perpetuate the goods of the current moment, just as the apostles at the Transfiguration wanted to build tents that Christ might remain there with Moses and Elijah always.  We do not want anything we perceive as good to pass away.  So we become slaves to the past.

It is not only things we hold onto, but people too.  We try to retain the relationships we had whether people die or drift out of our lives.

I used to think that everything would work out and that all the tangled web of relationships lost or strained would be straightened out if only I sought love and trusted in God.  I thought I would understand why those goodbyes had to come and why those things happened that led up to the necessity of breaking or loosening ties.

Yet as time goes on and the ache of those broken relationships goes on, I doubt I will find the happy endings I once looked for.  Perhaps I read too much as a child, for my mind seems to have been trained to believe that everything will tie up neatly and reach its wrapped-up end within a short and reasonable time.  Or perhaps that is merely human nature.

In any case, I know now that when I expect those perfect conclusions, I place all the emphasis on events resolving outside of myself.  (To put it in dramatic terms, I focus on plot instead of on character.)  In other words, I let go of my own responsibility.

Reality does not reflect my desires.  Instead of finding the warped threads of scattered paths coming together into one clear line, I am seeing the threads diverge more and more across the dark wood before me.

Yet my heart knows the Presence that remains still no matter how broken and empty it is.  The more I let go, the more I become aware of that great and awesome Presence waiting.

My heart is beginning to understand a deeper reality: it is not those ecstatic moments of joy and heart-felt connection to which we must cling.  Indeed, we must cling to nothing.  We must let go, adrift on the dark flowing waters as the moon and stars shine down upon us.  We can smile up at that night sky because our hearts are set free—because we are okay with goodbyes even if they last until forever.