Constructing a home


I am positive I am being tested right now. Detachment the only thing demanded. Within letting go, a lack of victory exist. Where I know I am right, without a doubt possessing penetrating insight, within the brutal honesty of knowing myself, I am positive in my discernment that God desires not useless efforts of battling immaturity. As Teresa of Avila stresses the importance of moving past interior rooms, as Christ was passing through this world to something greater—the sacrificing of Himself for the salvation of mankind, the defeating and destroying of the things we pass beyond is not necessary. To continue to allow immaturity a foothold upon my consciousness halts growth. It is not easy when one has been deeply attached. No one ever said it would be easy. The hidden nature, or if grace is even greater a pitiful image, is the outer expression appeasing interior growth. Exterior victories mean nothing. Superficial smiling, portraying arrogance, or extreme self-confidence means nothing for those truly maturing. A concern for others extends only through charity. Self-consciousness demonstrates immaturity. I am willing to look awkward and foolish for there is something deeper being concentrated upon. Confidence amasses with interior graces received. God is answering, encouraging, and providing. I am startled when I reflect upon my birthday awareness that concupiscence was absolved. I thought it would be a battle to the death. Within the awareness, I comprehend the emptiness actually subtly came into being, occurring over months. Lust was removed. I am humble in reception, recognizing the awesomeness of God. He is supporting my efforts. He wants something from me. Patience as Father Roger stressed, and also a vital message of St Francis de Sales—a mature voice that washes over me. Words of guidance are being presented. This morning I saw the St. Alphonsus Rodriquez volume of Christian Perfection and knew to pick it up and read. Aside from the message quoted in the earlier post–the entire section spoke to my current dilemma, the Spanish spiritual director pontificated upon humility in a purgative sense. I am at work right now, without the text, so I will paraphrase. He spoke of humility in a purging manner, the building of a home, the prebuilding and the laying of a foundation. Christ is the cornerstone, the illumination of an emptied soul. However before a cornerstone can be properly set a solid foundation must be established. Soft sand, quicksand, unstable ground must be removed. Never should we arrogantly believe we are so advanced we must not thoroughly examine our foundation. Time and weather, extreme temperatures, erode and alter a foundation. Humility is the tool for maintenance and excavating, the ridding of attributes that will not allow the cornerstone of Christ to stand and support expansion. Upon a soft, tenuous or damaged foundation the cornerstone of Christ will not be enough. Humility emptying, allowing self-knowledge—the realizing of deficiencies, fortitude established, the most difficult of interior battles waged, prayer a daily way of life, the Eucharist adored, the cornerstone of Christ can be built upon in the construction and maintenance of a stable home. Stability and strength, the ability to weather storms and natural disasters, the essential nature of the home. Beautifying, a deeper calling into the mystical, is all of God’s doing. I must be extremely grateful, satisfied, to shelter within a simple stout small home. It is enough.

Taken from Eastern Thought there is a poem from the Tao Te Ching, verse twenty, that always ruminates throughout my being. The first time I read it as a very young man, I knew it piercingly defined my life, my spiritual path. It is beautiful, wisdom portrayed.

Give up learning, and put an end to your troubles.

Is there a difference between yes and no?
Is there a difference between good and evil?
Must I fear what others fear? What nonsence!
Other people are contented, enjoying the sacrificial feast of the ox.
In spring some go to the park, and climb the terrace,
But I alone am drifting not knowing where I am.
Like a new-born babe before it learns to smile,
I am alone, without a place to go.

Others have more than they need, but I alone have nothing.
I am a fool. Oh, yes! I am confused.
Other men are clear and bright,
But I alone am dim and weak.
Other men are sharp and clever,
But I alone am dull and stupid.
Oh, I drift like the waves of the sea.
Without direction, like the restless wind.

Everyone else is busy,
But I alone am aimless and depressed.
I am different.
I am nourished by the great mother.


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