Stand Your Ground
- Mar 18, 2018
- 6 min read
Across the page from my first meditation of the day - a repetition of Mark 10:46-52, was Mark 10:13-15, Let the children come to me... whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will not enter it. I was tired and groggy that morning, and my actual meditation didn't feel especially fruitful, but that passage was a beautiful and consoling confirmation of the instructions the night before to be a toddler.
The weather continued grey as I continued the series of meditations on sin. The phrase it is only because of sin that mercy hurts stuck out very clearly during one of my prayer periods and became a helpful principle in sorting through experience of sin. But it also blossomed later in the retreat from the reverse perspective.
On one of my rambles through the seminary woods, I was struck by the first muddy, grey beginnings of Spring as a rather beautiful image of the spiritual life and how one must often face the muck and grossness of old sin and woundedness, but it's always going to be for the sake of new life.
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Soggy browns and decayed greens indistinguishable from grey and the pale grey light and the greyscale world the delicate intricacies of the lacework time have melted Melted into the slush and grime of last year’s death mire and mud and grossness churned into black by treading feet the sodden stone leaves a trail of green on my wandering fingers and the crumbling stairs are choked in the same sodden left-over decay the molded remains of a previous life. The chill is lit by a pale and quivering white now entirely grey, now almost free growing and fading – a patch of bright clarity still trapped behind a sheet of grey. And yet without even a thought of a hesitation my heart embraces the greyness as a herald of hope too many springtimes have blown through my heart for me to fail to know its touch.
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One of the humorous, but also rather beautiful indications that "be a toddler" was in fact the right direction, was the frequency of my naps during these few days. It was certainly the exception of the time that I've spent on silent retreats that in the two days leading up to General Confession I took multiple naps. I usually curled up and fell asleep right after I had spent some time examining my conscience and the whole of my history in preparation for G.C. (which was rather an arduous task).
In Spiritual Direction I told my director about my resolve and my fears surrounding General Confession and my uncertainty about when to do it and how to even possibly be sufficiently prepared. I was afraid - I did not want to spend another day anxiously waiting for something I was very afraid of and I also didn't really think I was capable of hearing such a specific answer in prayer.
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I hate waiting.
But there's a bit of peace
in the stillness
and I think I can
fall asleep on You
while I wait for the doctor.
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I approached the Holy Hour in which I was to ask this with some trepidation. It was a repetition of John 5 and I spent a lot of time praying about healing and freedom and how much I've been caught up in the past in a fear of failure. But then started to get really bogged down and anxious in the question of when I was supposed to go to General Confession. Nearing the end of my Holy Hour, I left my books in the Chapel and ran out into a little side hall where I could see the sky clearly. I sat facing the windows and kept running through all the things that had been getting tangled up in my head. Finally, I prayed something to the effect of "Ok, God, I think You want me to make my General Confession tonight and to make it like a toddler. But I'm really having trouble discerning Your voice so could You at least make it super clear if I'm wrong about this?" Right on cue, the sun came out from behind the clouds. It had been shrouded continuously for the last two days, and it only stayed out for about thirty seconds. Given a lot of context in prayer, and especially with the theme of the sun, that was ample clarity for me. I rested in the warmth of the sun for the 30 seconds that it was out, finished my Holy Hour, then went to the priest's room to ask to schedule my General Confession. He told me he could do it tonight and so it was set.
As soon as I left his room, I panicked. What the heck was I thinking? There's no way I can do this! Every variation of and reason for these pounded and ran circles through me for the next several hours. They continued through the (excellent) conference on Discernment of Spirits. Hearing again the rules for distinguishing between the voices of God, yourself, and the enemy helped me cling to my resolve... just barely. (There's rather too much to this to summarize quickly, but if you've never been taught the Ignatian rules for discernment of spirits, I highly recommend looking into them - they are immensely helpful) In praying through my notes from that conference today, I was especially struck by something Father said - Don't give the enemy any ground. Even if you're getting hit over and over again. It's a victory if you stand your ground. Satan is trying to get you off center from God, even if it's a little bit. Even if you don't make any progress against him, it's victory if you can hold to where you are.
After the conference, I had to wait for a couple minutes in which my terror rose to its peak. But once I actually started, things got significantly easier. It certainly was very hard to go through my life, naming everything of which I am the most afraid and ashamed, but Fr. John Ignatius was patient and incredibly understanding, helpful, and encouraging. With his help, I made it through my list. He pointed out that fear was the biggest problem, in many way causing all the others, and was where I should concentrate my efforts. He also showed me where to find encouragement and hope in the story of my life, gave me some beautiful advice, and overall treated with so much love, compassion, and mercy. It made the insane beauty of the Mercy of God very real and concrete to me, to have experienced it also from this holy man.
The penance he gave me was to read the pages that St. Ignatius had written On Scruples as well as the Farewell Discourse in the Gospel of John - Chapter 14-17. If you struggle with scrupulosity, fear, knowing that you are loved no matter what, or just need your life to be put back in the perspective of God's Mercy - please take some time to pray through John 14-17. Read it slowly, take as many prayer times, as many days as you need.
He absolved me of the sins of my entire life and I left the room and I'm not sure that I've ever been happier. I danced down the halls and, once I got to the Chapel, played the piano, sang, and squirmed around in joy. I remember recognizing that my attitude was very much that of a toddler who had just built a sandcastle and wanted her father to see and I burst out laughing when I thought of myself saying Look Daddy! I just made a General Confession! in that scene.
One thing that especially stuck with me from that joyous time of prayer was an image of me in the backyard of someone's home, standing in the heavy golden light of late afternoon, and radiantly happy because I was secure in the knowledge of the Father's love for me. It seemed to me to be an image of my vocation and it was ridiculously beautiful.
General Confession was in a lot of ways the crux of the retreat - it changed everything. And so many of the most profound and beautiful moments of the retreat came as a result - stay tuned! :)
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