Ready for Today's Cross at Work?
It's coming: today's cross. Get ready.
I'm prepping for work today, having spent some time performing my "norms of piety": brief meditation, reading Scripture (slow and thoughtful), some spiritual reading (reflecting on the message in the words), some doctrinal study (great columns lately in "The Wanderer"). I'm groomed, had that first cup and a half of coffee, did some healthy exercise and...off I go.
But having treated my mind and body with the respect due to a temple of the Holy Spirit, having refreshed my soul with the reading and meditation of my morning routine, I know what may await me this day: a cross or crosses. They're out there. But they don't throw me like they used to.
When I started this healthy and holy morning routine years ago, I had thought that I was more or less putting on a suit of armor that would insulate me from the slings and arrows of the world, the flesh and the devil. I learned it wasn't so. I was putting on armor, it's true, but it was to be ready for battle. And in battle you can get hurt.
At first, I thought that if I just got better at my morning routine, the hurt would go away, or when it came it wouldn't hurt much. But, alas, that's not the way of this life. More importantly, it's not God's way. The hurt, in the form of a cross or two, comes and, in spite of the armor, it stings.
At first I raged at the injustice of it all. After all that effort, why the pain and suffering? Doesn't God care about me? Why does He send such suffering (and some of it can get pretty bad) to such a faithful servant as I? Why even send the little hurts, the prickly pain that comes from here and there, from slights, rude remarks, lack of recognition?
But by the grace of God I learned in time about "passive suffering." I learned to accept today's suffering. I'm not looking to suffer, mind you. I just try to accept what comes my way without complaint, without moaning and groaning. What "comes my way" somehow comes from God; He sends it or permits it. It's somehow for the best; it's His Divine Will.
And in time I learned more about these crosses: Don't be self-reliant. Sure, you can put on your armor, but when pain and suffering comes run to the Father, as a child immediately runs to its parents when it's hurt. The less we try to be self-reliant, the closer we draw to God.
It's all called "spiritual progress." It starts with those crosses, the big ones and, most especially for me, the little ones. And day by day, without you really noticing, by accepting what God sends you, you grow closer to Him. You begin to treat Him as what He really is, more importantly how He Himself wants to be treated - as a Father. You give up the false manhood of the strong, impervious, mighty warrior and throw yourself into your work, your daily struggle, the battle against sin and for holiness that is life each day. You throw yourself into it all knowing that your Father is there to comfort and protect you.
And maybe from time to time, you remember to pray, as monks pray each day, many times throughout the day, following the example of St Benedict, who urged his monks to pray and follow the example of the Psalms:
I'm prepping for work today, having spent some time performing my "norms of piety": brief meditation, reading Scripture (slow and thoughtful), some spiritual reading (reflecting on the message in the words), some doctrinal study (great columns lately in "The Wanderer"). I'm groomed, had that first cup and a half of coffee, did some healthy exercise and...off I go.
But having treated my mind and body with the respect due to a temple of the Holy Spirit, having refreshed my soul with the reading and meditation of my morning routine, I know what may await me this day: a cross or crosses. They're out there. But they don't throw me like they used to.
When I started this healthy and holy morning routine years ago, I had thought that I was more or less putting on a suit of armor that would insulate me from the slings and arrows of the world, the flesh and the devil. I learned it wasn't so. I was putting on armor, it's true, but it was to be ready for battle. And in battle you can get hurt.
At first, I thought that if I just got better at my morning routine, the hurt would go away, or when it came it wouldn't hurt much. But, alas, that's not the way of this life. More importantly, it's not God's way. The hurt, in the form of a cross or two, comes and, in spite of the armor, it stings.
At first I raged at the injustice of it all. After all that effort, why the pain and suffering? Doesn't God care about me? Why does He send such suffering (and some of it can get pretty bad) to such a faithful servant as I? Why even send the little hurts, the prickly pain that comes from here and there, from slights, rude remarks, lack of recognition?
But by the grace of God I learned in time about "passive suffering." I learned to accept today's suffering. I'm not looking to suffer, mind you. I just try to accept what comes my way without complaint, without moaning and groaning. What "comes my way" somehow comes from God; He sends it or permits it. It's somehow for the best; it's His Divine Will.
And in time I learned more about these crosses: Don't be self-reliant. Sure, you can put on your armor, but when pain and suffering comes run to the Father, as a child immediately runs to its parents when it's hurt. The less we try to be self-reliant, the closer we draw to God.
It's all called "spiritual progress." It starts with those crosses, the big ones and, most especially for me, the little ones. And day by day, without you really noticing, by accepting what God sends you, you grow closer to Him. You begin to treat Him as what He really is, more importantly how He Himself wants to be treated - as a Father. You give up the false manhood of the strong, impervious, mighty warrior and throw yourself into your work, your daily struggle, the battle against sin and for holiness that is life each day. You throw yourself into it all knowing that your Father is there to comfort and protect you.
And maybe from time to time, you remember to pray, as monks pray each day, many times throughout the day, following the example of St Benedict, who urged his monks to pray and follow the example of the Psalms:
Incline unto my aid O God,
O Lord make haste to help me.
Comments