Friday, May 12, 2017
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone . . .
opens the door I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”
(Revelation 3.20)
Olivier Clément says it so beautifully: “God is the beggar
knocking at the door of our soul asking for love.” (The Roots of Christian Mysticism, p. 250.)
Do you sometimes sense that He is knocking at the door of
your soul, wanting to come to you and share a banquet with you, a richer
banquet than you have ever known before? He is, you know. Continually and
repeatedly. And it is not a question of your worthiness or unworthiness; don’t
forget that grace is a free, unmerited gift that comes to us not because we are
good, but rather because God is good—total goodness larger and more magnificent
than our limited minds can grasp. Origen speaks encouragingly: “. . . these
words may be said even to those who are not yet perfect.” (Homilies on the Song of Songs, 2.7)
And what takes place in the souls of we who are not yet
perfect is a purification, sometimes subtle, sometimes explosive and usually
life-changing.
He knocks, we open, and when He comes to us it changes us.
“Fear not the coming of your God, fear not his friendship,” St. Augustine
reassures us. He will not straiten you when he comes; rather he will enlarge
you.” (Sermons, 23.7) (“straiten” =
to make narrow, to confine within narrow limits) St. Augustine knows the
process so well, for he was a sinner, and it took a long time for him to be
able to open the door and let Christ in. This process has been documented in
his Confessions, and you would do
well to read that book if you haven’t yet come to know it.
The process also entails a stripping, a stripping away of
everything that is not God, and it has been my experience that every instance
of stripping has led to a more wonderful way of existing. Sometimes it seems as
if God is stripping us of something, and at other times we take the initiative,
the initiative itself being a work of grace. But the stripping never diminishes
our being, it always expands our horizens, and every stripping of course is a
preparation for the ultimate stripping of death, and passing through death,
thanks to the saving work of Jesus who died and then rose again, ushers us into
an unknown but marvelous realm. But more about that another time, perhaps.
I’ll close with a teaching of Pseudo-Macarius (c. 400):
“If you renounce the way you are living today and if you
persevere in your prayer, you will beel that your effort is securing you great
restfulness. You will discover in these slight pains and fatigues a joy and a
happiness that are immense. God’s tender love is ineffable. He offers himself
to those who with all their faith believe that God can dwell in the human body
and make it his glorious abode.” (Forty-ninth
homily)
God bless you. Have a nice weekend.
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