(In the midst of) Suffering and renunciation through the burden­someness, discomforts, and exhaustion of the body, through the darkness or at least the dimness of mind, and through the interior suffering of spiritual isolation and aridity. (I seek a) Pure and solid faith. To ask, as I have been advised, for the grace of “simplicity in suffering.”

Material concerns, sometimes too heavy for my already burdened body, time wasted, relationships that hold no attraction for me, the effort to be pleas­ant and to smile when all of me longs for recollection and for only close friends – all this constitutes my hid­den cross, the best cross, which does not elicit sym­pathy or admiration as illness or misfortune does.

Well, I will carry it “joyfully” until God changes my obligations. Yes, joyfully in spite of dryness, weari­ness, the costliness of these efforts, gently united to the heart of Jesus, aided by Mary, my Mother, stick­ing to my usual rule of devotions, meditation, and so on, always strict with myself, yet more gracious to everyone, attentive to remain open, trusting, and abandoned, without narrowness, self-centeredness, or subtlety.

To accept equally the impossibility of an active life through good deeds, relationships, and regular work, and the impossibility of a wholly contemplative life that my family obligations, the preferences of those around me, and my circumstances prevent. To do all I can for others, to take refuge often in my “inner cell” to pray, to adore, and to unite myself to my beloved God. To make of everything – prayer, suffering, self-­denial, and action – an interior offering for others and for God’s glory, as well as for those I love. 

O my God, “give me an adoring soul, an atoning soul, an apostle’s soul,” and do with me what you want according to my pact with you.

Elisabeth Leseur

(after her death from cancer, and having offered her sufferings for him, her athiest husband became a priest)

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“You know not what you ask”

Let us imagine our confusion when we appear before God and understand the reasons why he sent us the crosses we accept so unwillingly. The death of a child will then be seen as its rescue from some great evil had it lived, separation from the woman you love the means of saving you from an unhappy marriage, a severe ill­ness the reason for many years of life afterwards, loss of money the means of saving your soul from eternal loss.

So what are we worried about? God is looking after us and yet we are full of anxiety! We trust ourselves to a doctor because we suppose he knows his business. He orders an operation which involves cutting away part of our body and we accept it. We are grateful to him and pay him a large fee because we judge he would not act as he does unless the remedy were necessary, and we must rely on his skill. Yet we are unwilling to treat God in the same way! It looks as if we do not trust his wisdom and are afraid he cannot do his job properly. We allow ourselves to be operated on by a man who may easily make a mistake – a mistake which may cost us our life – and protest when God sets to work on us. 

If we could see all he sees we would unhesitatingly wish all he wishes. We would beg him on bended knees for those afflictions we now ask him to spare us. To all of us he addresses the words spoken to the sons of Zebedee: You know not what you ask! (O blind of heart, your ignorance saddens me. Let me manage your affairs and look after your interests. I know what you need better than you do yourselves. If I paid heed to what you think you need you would have been hope­lessly ruined long ago.)

+St. Claude de la Colombiere

The post Take Up Your Cross (Lk 9:23) first appeared on AirMaria.com.