The Occasion for Victory
Oh, this pain again. This agitation. Why must it come back so easily? And where did it come from? My heart aches. I feel on edge. Anxiety is beginning again.
Was it my child's behavior? Or my wandering mind that seems to be trying to settle somewhere I'd prefer it not go? Is it my lack of prayer time lately? My feelings of inadequacy? Is it that thing I said a few nights ago to my friend? Something feels to be out of sorts. Oh, why must I be so sensitive?
I have said so many times, "I'm tired of trying so hard. I'm tired of fighting." Why must it be so hard?
In confession once, I confessed that I try too hard, that I don't just let things be. The priest who heard my confession, a wonderful priest, said to me, "Don't stop trying. The saints are the ones who kept on trying."
This is my cross, an invisible cross to most, but my path to sanctity, my path to Heaven.
We have been reading a book by Fr. Jean C. J. D'Elbee, I Believe in Love, in my women's book club. It is an absolutely beautiful book. I could write perhaps a thousand posts on this book; I will begin with one. About halfway through this book, Fr. D'Elbee said something that helped me to better appreciate this gift: "I assure you that I like a hundred times better those sensitive natures who suffer profoundly, who feel the stings, who react strongly, who kick, than the soft, indifferent, passive natures from whom everything slides off without penetrating. I prefer the former, on the condition that their reactions are occasions of victory for them, that they profit from them to unite themselves more closely to Jesus and to give Him the proof that it is Him they love, repudiating what displeases Him. The occasion for struggle is the occasion for victory. We do not have to yield deliberately, and, with the grace of God, we can always overcome" (p. 153).
That is me: a sensitive nature who suffers profoundly in situations others may not even notice, in situations they may let "slide off without penetrating." Yes, I feel the stings, I react strongly, and I even kick - figuratively speaking anyway. Oh, how tiring it is! And how much easier life would be if that was not my nature!
However, that is not the end of the story. I may lie down in defeat and despair at times - I have done that more times than I can count - but, even when I do, I get back up. One thing I have learned is that it is truly only by God's grace that I can stay on my feet or rise again after a fall. It is only by remaining close to Him that I have peace. Simple events or thoughts will bring me down easily - perceptions I have of events in life, memories of the past or of things I have done or said - even those no one else noticed or thought anything of, my children's behavior wearing me down, lack of sleep or feeling fatigued or stressed, among countless other things.
What I have noticed is that when these things steal my peace, it is because they are drawing my eyes away from God and onto more worldly concerns or onto myself. There are things I need to take care of or address - my children, for example, as well as any misbehaviors on their part - but I can learn to do so with my eyes and attention remaining on God and with trust and confidence firmly in Him.
Once in a state of either despair or anxiety, it is very tough to climb back out. It takes God's grace to pull me out, as well as a decision on my part that I do want to get out, and often some time. But I notice again and again that the closer I remain to God, the more quickly I am pulled out and the better I am able to maintain my peace afterward. Not only that, but the joy of being pulled out along with the concurrent deepening of my faith and strengthening of my relationship with God, I would venture to say, actually makes the fall worthwhile. This is something I have experienced again and again, not that I want to fall in order to experience the rising but that God brings good out of any fall when I ask for His help and invite Him to do so.
This is true for us all: our suffering and our crosses do not need to be the last word. They can be occasions of victory for us, allowing opportunities for us to deepen our faith and unite ourselves more closely with Jesus, growing also in love with Him and demonstrating that love for Him. "The occasion for struggle is the occasion for victory," says Fr. D'Elbee. "We do not have to yield deliberately, and, with the grace of God, we can always overcome."
Was it my child's behavior? Or my wandering mind that seems to be trying to settle somewhere I'd prefer it not go? Is it my lack of prayer time lately? My feelings of inadequacy? Is it that thing I said a few nights ago to my friend? Something feels to be out of sorts. Oh, why must I be so sensitive?
I have said so many times, "I'm tired of trying so hard. I'm tired of fighting." Why must it be so hard?
In confession once, I confessed that I try too hard, that I don't just let things be. The priest who heard my confession, a wonderful priest, said to me, "Don't stop trying. The saints are the ones who kept on trying."
This is my cross, an invisible cross to most, but my path to sanctity, my path to Heaven.
We have been reading a book by Fr. Jean C. J. D'Elbee, I Believe in Love, in my women's book club. It is an absolutely beautiful book. I could write perhaps a thousand posts on this book; I will begin with one. About halfway through this book, Fr. D'Elbee said something that helped me to better appreciate this gift: "I assure you that I like a hundred times better those sensitive natures who suffer profoundly, who feel the stings, who react strongly, who kick, than the soft, indifferent, passive natures from whom everything slides off without penetrating. I prefer the former, on the condition that their reactions are occasions of victory for them, that they profit from them to unite themselves more closely to Jesus and to give Him the proof that it is Him they love, repudiating what displeases Him. The occasion for struggle is the occasion for victory. We do not have to yield deliberately, and, with the grace of God, we can always overcome" (p. 153).
That is me: a sensitive nature who suffers profoundly in situations others may not even notice, in situations they may let "slide off without penetrating." Yes, I feel the stings, I react strongly, and I even kick - figuratively speaking anyway. Oh, how tiring it is! And how much easier life would be if that was not my nature!
However, that is not the end of the story. I may lie down in defeat and despair at times - I have done that more times than I can count - but, even when I do, I get back up. One thing I have learned is that it is truly only by God's grace that I can stay on my feet or rise again after a fall. It is only by remaining close to Him that I have peace. Simple events or thoughts will bring me down easily - perceptions I have of events in life, memories of the past or of things I have done or said - even those no one else noticed or thought anything of, my children's behavior wearing me down, lack of sleep or feeling fatigued or stressed, among countless other things.
What I have noticed is that when these things steal my peace, it is because they are drawing my eyes away from God and onto more worldly concerns or onto myself. There are things I need to take care of or address - my children, for example, as well as any misbehaviors on their part - but I can learn to do so with my eyes and attention remaining on God and with trust and confidence firmly in Him.
Once in a state of either despair or anxiety, it is very tough to climb back out. It takes God's grace to pull me out, as well as a decision on my part that I do want to get out, and often some time. But I notice again and again that the closer I remain to God, the more quickly I am pulled out and the better I am able to maintain my peace afterward. Not only that, but the joy of being pulled out along with the concurrent deepening of my faith and strengthening of my relationship with God, I would venture to say, actually makes the fall worthwhile. This is something I have experienced again and again, not that I want to fall in order to experience the rising but that God brings good out of any fall when I ask for His help and invite Him to do so.
This is true for us all: our suffering and our crosses do not need to be the last word. They can be occasions of victory for us, allowing opportunities for us to deepen our faith and unite ourselves more closely with Jesus, growing also in love with Him and demonstrating that love for Him. "The occasion for struggle is the occasion for victory," says Fr. D'Elbee. "We do not have to yield deliberately, and, with the grace of God, we can always overcome."
Comments