One of Those Times

This is one of those times when I am forcing myself to write something in this blog, because I am in a period of Ignatian "desolation." We all know, or should know, that the spiritual life goes in consolations and desolations, and there is no telling how long either one will last. We can't of ourselves bring one state or the other on, or force it to depart. It just is.

God uses these times to work silently within us, or that is my firm belief. In consolation I know all is right with the world and me. In desolation, I know that nothing is right in the world and especially in me. This is the time when most people turn from the spiritual life and say "enough of this nonsense, I'm getting nowhere, I quit."

Well, having been through that at least...oh....six times before, I know better at this point in my life than to walk away at what can/could/might be a pivotal time in my spiritual life. The evil one tempts me with "oh give up, you're such a failure
God laughs at your prayers." I respond very strongly to that, and invoke the name of Christ to make the evil one go right back to hell.

That doesn't make the desolation one bit easier, but at least it shuts up that negative voice. If I can stay docile to the spirit I will be okay. Today though, I realized I was very angry at God, so spent two hours at St. Vincent's expressing it in great detail to God. It made me feel better, and in a way, feel closer to God than when I was just holding it in. My spiritual director told me once that sometimes you have to let it out, so I did. And, I left there feeling more in the care of God than when I went in.

My point? Don't let the evil one win when God sends the desolation into your spiritual life. It will surely come, and if you've been at this more than a year, then you already know that. That's the best I can say.

And now for Poetry I did not write.
John Donne
A Litany

VIII.

THE PROPHETS.

Thy eagle-sighted prophets too,
—Which were Thy Church's organs, and did sound
That harmony which made of two
One law, and did unite, but not confound ;
Those heavenly poets which did see
Thy will, and it express
In rhythmic feet—in common pray for me,
That I by them excuse not my excess
In seeking secrets, or poeticness.