I got a chance this weekend to take my own advice.
A few weeks ago, my sister had texted asking if I thought it was reasonable, given a set of unusual and challenging circumstances, for her to make an exception to one of her planned penances from Magnify 90 — or should she just offer up?
I conceded that offering it up was indeed the ideal, but then went on to explore in painful detail a wide variety of if-then permutations on her possible situation. One of them was this:
Also if you find yourself in a mental health loop where either you just need a break or else you are caught up in overthinking and worrying about all this, do an intentional stop to the disciplines that are wrecking you, and give it 48 hours off before a reset. That's a preemptive plan because seasonal depression can throw a wrench into things, and if so, back off and breathe for a bit.
The right balance on the spiritual disciplines should have you challenged like a good soccer game-- you are pushing yourself but it feels *right*. It's okay to realize your spiritual athleticism might have a few little injuries that you need to work around and not overdo it.
I’m not sure whether she needed my saying so, but I sure did.
This weekend was my third weekend in a row of not-quite-making-it to Confession.
Now, things aren’t quite as bad as they seem, but that’s not what my tortured thinking was saying late Saturday afternoon. Monthly Confession is one of the Magnify 90 planned disciplines, and one I wholeheartedly endorse.
Knowing myself, and my tendency to not-quite-make-it, I resolved that starting three weeks after my last Confession I’d go ahead and clear an afternoon to receive the Sacrament again. This strategy allowed for a solid three weeks of attempts before we were past the five-week mark and really pushing the definition of “month.”
First weekend, didn’t make it: Okay, well, that was just the early go.
Second weekend, our target date: My efforts to protect the day got thwarted by multiple unexpected disruptions. Fine, fine, next weekend looks great.
Third weekend, now we really need to go because we made this commitment and we need to hit goal: Despite genuinely, hopefully, proactively taking to steps to make it? Did not make it.
At this point, I began to despair. It sounded in my head like this: I’m a horrible failure, I can’t do these basic things, I’m incompetent and irresponsible and obviously just don’t love Jesus . . .
Yeah.
Someone’s perfectionist tendencies were not staying in their lane.
I want to pause here and note, before you try to help me with little tips: I have a strong preference for going to the particular parish where I usually confess, because spiritually it has been very fruitful for me and the direction I get is spot on.
Thus, barring some serious reason to go sooner, I’m just gonna try again at the preferred locale at the next available opening.
And that brings us back to the reality check . . .
Here is the thing about that despairingly negative self-talk: It isn’t real.
It’s built on something that is totally made-up.
A random lady who wrote what has turned out so far to be a pretty darn good book, very balanced, wisely included monthly confession as a reasonable plan of life for spiritual renewal. This is just basic normal good counsel in a generic way.
I in turned decided that yeah, that’s one of the things I’m going to do. It would be silly to not plan on it, sheesh.
But nowhere in here did anyone say: You must therefore be all-knowing and all-powerful, immune from every vagary of the human condition, or at least sufficiently so that you make it to Confession by week five at the latest, otherwise you are DOOMED.
Despair is just the wrong answer. It doesn’t come from God, it comes from the enemy.
It’s great to have some spiritual guiderails, and it’s great to push ourselves to be as spiritually disciplined as we can.
But in setting goals or plans, if I say to myself that the goal I made up in my head in turn becomes the measure for judgement? I’m usurping a right that belongs to God alone.
It’s His plan I am bound to follow, and His judgement that is righteous and holy.
Even if it were a matter of actual sin, despair is not of God. Repentance? Sure. But repentance is an act of hope.
So, hope: I’ll keep on trying to get to Confession. I will note the things that derailed me on previous attempts, and do what I can to prevent or sidestep those obstacles. If I can’t be blessed with prompt success, I’ll let myself be trained in the school of perseverance.
I write all this for two reasons. First of all, Lent is almost here, and though there are some notable differences between the penances of Lent and an initiative like Magnify, Fiat, or Exodus 90, there are also many commonalities. The tendency to despair when we don’t live up to our vision of our own spiritual strength is one of those commonalities.
Secondly, this is a topic for discipleship generally. To my knowledge only a small portion of the readers here are spiritual directors in a formal sense, but the reality is that most of us ordinary Christians end up taking on some aspect of that role as we teach, mentor, or grow along with others.
We should encourage one another to strive for ever greater holiness, yes. But no matter how horribly, terribly, miserably wrong our lives seem to be going, no matter how utterly incapable we seem to be at just getting those few basic things accomplished . . . despair is not the answer.
Despair is never the answer.
Not ever.
Not even once.
Stop, breathe, take a mental time-out from the grind. Go back in with a spirit of patience and of trust in God. He knows the whole story.
Photo: Dog rose buds at Myrstigen by W. Carter, CC 4.0.
I am all for discipline. My whole life is better with structure and steps and lists… except I tend to end up making the discipline the thing I worship. And then I wonder, has this strength I’ve exhibited to bring order and strive for holiness actually hardened me to the tender love and mercy of God? May all the holy men and women in heaven pray for us! ❤️