“This is one of the greatest
powers given to human beings—the freedom to choose the way we think about the
events and situations of our lives.” Philip St. Romain, Reflecting on the Serenity Prayer, p. 18.
He’s not talking here about
changing the events and situations in our lives. Many people live with events
and situations that simply cannot be changed—a particular illness, perhaps, or
a troubled marriage, or a disability. Other things can be changed—an unjust
situation, a bad job, or the overwhelming power of a particular addiction (even
though there are times when it seems impossible to get free).
Nonetheless, what I want to
reflect on today is not the power to make changes in what is outside of
ourselves, but rather on the power we all have, a power which has been given to
us by God, to change our way of thinking. And once this is transformed,
it might very well be that we discover we have the power to transform the
circumstances which have trouble us perhaps for a lifetime.
Why do I say this power is
innate? Well, as rigid as our minds may be a times, especially regarding parts
of our lives that cause us pain, we still, with God’s help, are able to adjust
or renew the way we have been thinking perhaps for a lifetime. St. Paul
encourages us to do so: “. . . you must lay aside your former way of life and
the old self which deteriorates through illusion and desire, and acquire a
fresh, spiritual way of thinking.”
I find the word illusion
to be the most powerful in this passage. It seems to say that the way we are
thinking now; that is, before conversion of our minds, is nothing but an
illusion. The thoughts that habitually run round and round in our minds, making
us miserable, bitter and unhappy, are not real. Just because we think something
is so, does not mean that it truly is so. Saint Paul is inviting us to
be open to receiving a way of thinking that frees us from a kind of
self-afflicted misery.
Let me see if I can give you an
example from personal experience. For years, I have been oppressed by
judgmental thoughts about a certain confrère. I began praying for him, and one
day I found myself thinking about him in a different way, a way more sensitive
to the particular kind of pain that weighs on him. As a result of this, I
stopped judging and began thinking more compassionately. Eventually, it had an
effect on the way I would interact with him, especially during times when the “thorns
of contention” (a phrase used by St. Benedict) would spring up.
He didn’t change his behavior; I
changed the way I thought about his behavior. And that has made all the
difference.
God bless you!
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