No one ought to consider himself a true servant of God who is not tried by many temptations and trials.
I read this quote from Saint Francis of Assisi with great relief. Despite constantly striving for virtue and the greatest good, I sometimes feel I am going nowhere for I am seething with temptations within, and I fall into sin as easily as I did before my Damascus experience. I am sure I exaggerate for I must have progressed somewhat, but it sure feels that way, much to my chagrin. So, Saint Francis, thank you.
Although I know that to be tempted is not a sin if I do not act out what I am tempted to do, it still feels pretty much like a sin when temptation pops into my head and I kinda let it sit there a while, contemplating, and even luxuriating in it (sailing a little too close to the wind here), before banishing it with prayerful resolve.
It is quite interesting to note that there are different grades of temptation, some easily dealt with, while others tend to be a little more persistent, much like pet sins that plague us regularly despite our best efforts. But then, given that there are venial and mortal sins, I suppose it makes sense that there are temptations of varying strengths.
I also know that my strongest weaknesses (although A would tell me that weakness is strength in excess) will always be the most challenged and these are the ones I safeguard against the most zealously. I once asked E how do I deal with the heavy duty ones, and she told me to offer them up to the Lord to sanctify. This actually works. So it is important to acknowledge and give up our weaknesses for only in humble supplication can God's transformative power be made perfect; temptation, and sin, vanquished.
It is imperative that we have an ongoing, maturing awareness of self. Self-knowledge that aids a well-formed conscience is one of our most effective weapons against temptation, apart from our openness and desire to improve ourselves.
But merely knowing our shadows is grossly inadequate; we have to want to overcome weakness, or else it becomes a greater obstacle to our spiritual growth. When we fall into sin knowingly, it not only bumps the gravity of the sin up one notch, taking us further away from God, it also erodes our moral fibre and our confidence in combating sin in general.
It's much like walking, and falling knowingly into a pit, then mouldering there in gloomy self-exile. We may convince ourselves that a particular sin is the source of our greatest happiness but we would only be fooling ourselves momentarily (check out the parable of the prodigal son and you will see what I mean).
Conversely, we might despair, causing us to stay away from the Father and His healing love even longer. Worse, we give up, or we can are unable to differentiate between right and wrong any more, thereby opening the door even wider for evil to take root more vigorously in our hearts and lives.
There is no such thing as a little sin or a little evil: from a single seed, an entire forest can proliferate in the blink of an eye. You cannot control it, it is most insidious. Just when you thought it could not get any worse, sin happens to have a social aspect, meaning what you do impacts others. Your actions may cause others to sin, or incur collateral damage. Even if damage is not apparent, every sin committed makes the world a darker, and sadder, place, tipping the scales between good and evil toward evil.
So befriend your shadows and coax them every day into the light of God's grace to diminish in strength. The consciousness examen is inestimable in this endeavour. Call it super-strength weed killer for it helps us spot even the seeds that are naked to the human eye, and eradicate them.
If they do not go away, this is where the second part of Saint Francis's quote kicks in, it becomes a trial to be endured, much like Saint Paul's thorn in his flesh. After all, it is an imperfect world we live in so why should we be perfect while inhabiting it? It would only serve to make us insufferable, hardly saintly.
Speaking of saintliness, I found another gem of a quote by Leon Bloy (read this twice in two days which means it is worth sharing):
Life offers only one tragedy in the end: not to have been a saint.
If you are seriously considering becoming one, this is answered aptly by Peter Kreeft in life lesson 12, in his book Before I Go:
A saint is one who loves God simply, with whole heart, mind and soul.
What's stopping you?
I read this quote from Saint Francis of Assisi with great relief. Despite constantly striving for virtue and the greatest good, I sometimes feel I am going nowhere for I am seething with temptations within, and I fall into sin as easily as I did before my Damascus experience. I am sure I exaggerate for I must have progressed somewhat, but it sure feels that way, much to my chagrin. So, Saint Francis, thank you.
Although I know that to be tempted is not a sin if I do not act out what I am tempted to do, it still feels pretty much like a sin when temptation pops into my head and I kinda let it sit there a while, contemplating, and even luxuriating in it (sailing a little too close to the wind here), before banishing it with prayerful resolve.
It is quite interesting to note that there are different grades of temptation, some easily dealt with, while others tend to be a little more persistent, much like pet sins that plague us regularly despite our best efforts. But then, given that there are venial and mortal sins, I suppose it makes sense that there are temptations of varying strengths.
I also know that my strongest weaknesses (although A would tell me that weakness is strength in excess) will always be the most challenged and these are the ones I safeguard against the most zealously. I once asked E how do I deal with the heavy duty ones, and she told me to offer them up to the Lord to sanctify. This actually works. So it is important to acknowledge and give up our weaknesses for only in humble supplication can God's transformative power be made perfect; temptation, and sin, vanquished.
It is imperative that we have an ongoing, maturing awareness of self. Self-knowledge that aids a well-formed conscience is one of our most effective weapons against temptation, apart from our openness and desire to improve ourselves.
But merely knowing our shadows is grossly inadequate; we have to want to overcome weakness, or else it becomes a greater obstacle to our spiritual growth. When we fall into sin knowingly, it not only bumps the gravity of the sin up one notch, taking us further away from God, it also erodes our moral fibre and our confidence in combating sin in general.
It's much like walking, and falling knowingly into a pit, then mouldering there in gloomy self-exile. We may convince ourselves that a particular sin is the source of our greatest happiness but we would only be fooling ourselves momentarily (check out the parable of the prodigal son and you will see what I mean).
Conversely, we might despair, causing us to stay away from the Father and His healing love even longer. Worse, we give up, or we can are unable to differentiate between right and wrong any more, thereby opening the door even wider for evil to take root more vigorously in our hearts and lives.
There is no such thing as a little sin or a little evil: from a single seed, an entire forest can proliferate in the blink of an eye. You cannot control it, it is most insidious. Just when you thought it could not get any worse, sin happens to have a social aspect, meaning what you do impacts others. Your actions may cause others to sin, or incur collateral damage. Even if damage is not apparent, every sin committed makes the world a darker, and sadder, place, tipping the scales between good and evil toward evil.
So befriend your shadows and coax them every day into the light of God's grace to diminish in strength. The consciousness examen is inestimable in this endeavour. Call it super-strength weed killer for it helps us spot even the seeds that are naked to the human eye, and eradicate them.
If they do not go away, this is where the second part of Saint Francis's quote kicks in, it becomes a trial to be endured, much like Saint Paul's thorn in his flesh. After all, it is an imperfect world we live in so why should we be perfect while inhabiting it? It would only serve to make us insufferable, hardly saintly.
Speaking of saintliness, I found another gem of a quote by Leon Bloy (read this twice in two days which means it is worth sharing):
Life offers only one tragedy in the end: not to have been a saint.
If you are seriously considering becoming one, this is answered aptly by Peter Kreeft in life lesson 12, in his book Before I Go:
A saint is one who loves God simply, with whole heart, mind and soul.
What's stopping you?
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