Learning to Seek God

I feel caught in a strange space right now. I feel as though I have been wandering from God in a slow drift, and now when I look back, I see what appears to be a great expanse between me and Him. And I wonder how long this drift has been happening to become so great.

It first came to my mind when I went to go to Eucharistic adoration the other day (the priests were on retreat, though, so there was no Eucharist to adore, alas). Suddenly a concept from Christian mysticism dealing with the idea of levels of heaven came into my head, along with the idea to better understand it and how it fits into one's prayer life. And more than that strange thing to come to mind, I realised that my present discomfort may be more than just a drifting in the past few weeks or months, but that perhaps some aspect of my life has been drifting for far longer. I do not question that I am meant to be Catholic, nor do I question its truth. But I feel as though I am missing something here, something which I may have been seeking after when I was a Protestant but have since been distracted from seeking. And I wonder if perhaps now is not the time to resume that pursuit.

I'm just not sure how, or even what it is that I am pursuing, or how my Catholicism fits into this pursuit (or if it fits in at all, aside from it being just another form of Christianity, although I believe it is more than so merely incidental). I am reasonably certain that to find where I am being drawn, to find what it is that I am chasing, I will be led deep into mysticism. But where or what aspects of it or even where to begin I am not sure. The name Teresa of Avila has come up several times in the past year or two, so perhaps I will begin there. And with prayer. I think I will need a guide to find my way and show me the way to Christ in this. It begins with His mother who was once my model for how to pray, many years ago. And I guess we will see from there.

A Prayer

Easter looms large in my vision. Tomorrow is Holy Thursday.

Lord, I wonder why you have given me what you have? And I both fear and hope that it is because of this season. But if it is, I will be sad at having lost this intimacy with you. But if it is not, I will, shamefully, feel the relief of someone no longer looking over my shoulder. But really, I want you to guide me so closely. I want to obey you in your directions which have such clarity. It is my fear of where you are leading that makes me hesitant. But I should not fear my destination, because if you are taking me there, you will be with me. More fearful would be to remain here in a pleasance without you than to go into trial with you. And so I suppose I must go with you. You who speaks through me must be with me and carry me forward as a rushing stream and help me to trust in you to guard me and prepare me as needed. And if you are for me, who can be against me? So tomorrow I will begin the walk to Calvary with you. And once it is finished, and once you are risen indeed, let me take up my cross with you and follow you. Be my Simon that I might follow you to Calvary.

An Overdue Update

I've finished reading that book, now, and I expect I shall read it again. It has a strong emphasis upon learning to listen through journaling. I've started journaling a little, and I have found it to be a very good exercise, although a challenge to establish as a discipline. However, one must look on the source of why it is challenging: whether it is God telling you something, or if it is a sign that you should be pursuing it all the more as the devil seeks to stop you from getting closer to God. In this case, for myself, I believe it is either the latter or my lack of discipline, or something of both.

In other news, I've been reading Anticlaudianus, by Alain de Lille for Latin class. It is an interesting work, although I tend to agree with C. S. Lewis on the value of this work (Lewis had Opinions on it and Alain de Lille). Allegory of Love discusses it and Cosmographia, by Bernardus Silvestris; and while a certain kindness is extended to Bernardus for the originality of his topic, he tears Alanus ab Ilanus to shreds as an unoriginal hack. On the whole it was an intriguing analysis which I do not fully agree with, although I certainly do to a certain extent.

And on a more random note, steampunk computer things! I cannot believe I did not know about this genre until recently. Or rather, that it existed as its own genre.

A Meditation on this Season of Lent

As of Wednesday we began the season of Lent, the season which heralds Christ's passion and resurrection. And so with him we wander forty days in the desert, praying and fasting, as Israel wandered fort years in the desert awaiting the promised land, and Noah and his family watched the rain come down, obliterating and renewing the Earth for its unveiling as a new creation.

Many people, in this modern age, choose, for the season of Lent, to take up an act of charity (caritas) as opposed to giving something up as a fast. While I applaud those people for their positive piety, I fear we begin to forget the ancient journey that is Lent. For many years we have dwelt upon the desert, and now we choose to dwell on the living water which flows from the rock. But we mustn't forget that we are still in the desert. Christ spent forty days in the desert, both fasting and praying. He did not fast, dwelling only upon the solemn and hardship, as so many among us have been wont to do. Nor did he pray, dwelling only upon the divine and heaven, as so many among us are encouraged to do. Instead did both, praying and fasting, meditating solemnly in hardship upon his Father's heavenly will. Thus experiencing his humanity while being led by his divine nature.

It was not until the forty days had finished that the true temptation began. After the forty days, when he was physically exhausted from his fast, distinctly human, aware of the world through his hunger and thirst, sustained by spiritual bread and wine, he then faced a spiritual desolation. And so it is with us that after we have fasted for forty days, filling our hearts instead with prayer and charity, that we must face the desolation of watching our Lord and Saviour die. And in his dying and by his rising, withstanding the devil's temptation, he imparts to us his Body and Blood which imparts to us his divine nature by consummation of holy union.

This is the journey that is Lent; and this, that is the taking his freely given Body and Blood into ourselves, is the consummation which we celebrate every Sunday, and even every day we attend church. Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday teaches us day by day what it means to be Christian.