"This simple truth, that the sole purpose of man's life on earth is to do the will of God, contains in it riches and resources enough for a lifetime. Once you have learned to live with it uppermost in mind, to see each day and each day's activities in its light, it becomes more than a source of eternal salvation; it becomes a source of joy and happiness here on earth.
The notion that the human will, when united with the divine will, can play a part in Christ's work of redeeming all mankind is overpowering. The wonder of God's grace transforming worthless human actions into efficient means for spreading the kingdom of God here on earth astounds the mind and humbles it to the utmost, yet brings a peace and joy unknown to those who have never experienced it, unexplainable to those who will not believe."
From Walter J. Ciszek's book He Leadeth me
Showing posts with label Siberia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Siberia. Show all posts
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
The peace of abandonment to God's will--on a prison train to the labor camps
"...I thought again of that text: "The children of this world are wiser than the children of light." It seemed a peculiar thing to keep running through my mind, and yet a strange and exciting challenge for a priest-apostle on a prison train heading for the labor camps. The challenge seemed plain. Could my sacrifice, could my total dedication, could my stamina in doing the will of God be less than that of the children of this world? They knew that in order to survive a long sentence a man had to face and conquer one day at a time. Had I not resolved to see each day, one day at a time, as a gift of God within whose confines I was to accomplish his will? The prisoners survived by taking life as it came, rolling with the punches, hoping only to survive each day as it happened, one day at a time. Surely my motivation ought to help me see beyond that. Each day to me should be more than an obstacle to be gotten over, a span of time to be endured, a sequence of hours to be survived. For me, each day came forth from the hand of God newly created and alive with opportunities to do his will. For me, each day was a series of moments and incidents to be offered back to God, to be consecrated and returned in total dedication to his will. That was what my priesthood demanded of me, as it demanded of every Christian.
The children of this world were dedicated to surviving this life by whatever method possible. I, too, must be totally dedicated, but with an added dimension. I must not seek to avoid hardships or to soften their impact. I must see in them the will of God and through them work out my salvation. Otherwise, I would be acting rather as a child of this world than a child of light. I would be acting not out of faith but as a fatalist. I would have survived a series of moments, a succession of days, but I would have made nothing of them nor of myself. I resolved again, therefore, to accept each day and every moment as from God's hands, and to offer it back to him as best I could. I would not merely passively survive, like the children of this world, but with his help and his grace I would actively participate—and I would survive. I never doubted that, because I did not fear non-survival. Death would simply be a call to return to the God I served each day. My life was to do the will of God, as the prayer our Savior taught us put it quite simply, "On earth as in heaven." His will would determine how long I would spend on earth.
In such thoughts and prayers, peace returned. It was the peace, once again, that total abandonment to God's will brings. Only this time I was not in the quiet confines of a solitary cell in Lubianka, I was in the corner of a rough, jolting, profane prison car. My situation had not improved, but my disposition in the acceptance of God's will had returned. Along with it had come peace and a renewed confidence—not in my own ability to survive, but a total trust and confidence in God's ability to sustain me and provide me with whatever strength I needed to meet the challenges he would send me. What greater peace and confidence could I require? I even looked forward to laboring again in his vineyard..."
From Walter J. Ciszek's book He Leadeth me
The children of this world were dedicated to surviving this life by whatever method possible. I, too, must be totally dedicated, but with an added dimension. I must not seek to avoid hardships or to soften their impact. I must see in them the will of God and through them work out my salvation. Otherwise, I would be acting rather as a child of this world than a child of light. I would be acting not out of faith but as a fatalist. I would have survived a series of moments, a succession of days, but I would have made nothing of them nor of myself. I resolved again, therefore, to accept each day and every moment as from God's hands, and to offer it back to him as best I could. I would not merely passively survive, like the children of this world, but with his help and his grace I would actively participate—and I would survive. I never doubted that, because I did not fear non-survival. Death would simply be a call to return to the God I served each day. My life was to do the will of God, as the prayer our Savior taught us put it quite simply, "On earth as in heaven." His will would determine how long I would spend on earth.
In such thoughts and prayers, peace returned. It was the peace, once again, that total abandonment to God's will brings. Only this time I was not in the quiet confines of a solitary cell in Lubianka, I was in the corner of a rough, jolting, profane prison car. My situation had not improved, but my disposition in the acceptance of God's will had returned. Along with it had come peace and a renewed confidence—not in my own ability to survive, but a total trust and confidence in God's ability to sustain me and provide me with whatever strength I needed to meet the challenges he would send me. What greater peace and confidence could I require? I even looked forward to laboring again in his vineyard..."
From Walter J. Ciszek's book He Leadeth me
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The purest act of Faith
"...I had always trusted in God. I had always tried to find his will, to see his providence at work. I had always seen my life and my destiny as guided by his will. At some moments more consciously than at others, I had been aware of his promptings, his call, his promises, his grace. At times of crisis, especially, I had tried to discover his will and to follow it to the best of my ability. But this was a new vision, a totally new understanding, something more than just a matter of emphasis.
Up until now, I had always seen my role—man's role—in the divine economy as an active one. Up to this time, I had retained in my own hands the reins of all decision, actions, and endeavors; I saw it now as my task to "cooperate" with his grace, to be involved to the end in the working out of salvation. God's will was "out there" somewhere, hidden, yet clear and unmistakable. It was my role—man's role— to discover what it was and then conform my will to that, and so work at achieving the ends of his divine providence. I remained—man remained—in essence the master of my own destiny. Perfection consisted simply in learning to discover God's will in every situation and then in bending every effort to do what must be done.
Now, with sudden and almost blinding clarity and simplicity, I realized I had been trying to do something with my own will and intellect that was at once too much and mostly all wrong. God's will was not hidden somewhere "out there" in the situations in which I found myself; the situations themselves were his will for me. What he wanted was for me to accept these situations as from his hands, to let go of the reins and place myself entirely at his disposal. He was asking He of me an act of total trust, allowing for no interference or restless striving on my part, no reservations, no exceptions, no areas where I could set conditions or seem to hesitate. He was asking a complete gift of self, nothing held back. It demanded absolute faith: faith in God's existence, in his providence, in his concern for the minutest detail, in his power to sustain me, and in his love protecting me. It meant losing the last hidden doubt, the ultimate fear that God will not be there to bear you up.
It was something like that awful eternity between anxiety and belief when a child first leans back and lets go of all support whatever—only to find that the water truly holds him up and he can float motionless and totally relaxed.
Once understood, it seemed so simple. I was amazed it had taken me so long in terms of time and of suffering to learn this truth. Of course we believe that we depend on God, that his will sustains us in every moment of our life. But we are afraid to put it to the test. There remains deep down in each of us a little nagging doubt, a little knot of fear which we refuse to face or admit even to ourselves, that says, "Suppose it isn't so." We are afraid to abandon ourselves totally into God's hands for fear he will not catch us as we fall. It is the ultimate criterion, the final test of all faith and all belief, and it is present in each of us, lurking unvoiced in a closet of our mind we are afraid to open. It is not really a question of trust in God at all, for we want very much to trust him; it is really a question of our ultimate belief in his existence and his providence, and it demands the purest act of faith..."
From Walter J. Ciszek's book He Leadeth me
Up until now, I had always seen my role—man's role—in the divine economy as an active one. Up to this time, I had retained in my own hands the reins of all decision, actions, and endeavors; I saw it now as my task to "cooperate" with his grace, to be involved to the end in the working out of salvation. God's will was "out there" somewhere, hidden, yet clear and unmistakable. It was my role—man's role— to discover what it was and then conform my will to that, and so work at achieving the ends of his divine providence. I remained—man remained—in essence the master of my own destiny. Perfection consisted simply in learning to discover God's will in every situation and then in bending every effort to do what must be done.
Now, with sudden and almost blinding clarity and simplicity, I realized I had been trying to do something with my own will and intellect that was at once too much and mostly all wrong. God's will was not hidden somewhere "out there" in the situations in which I found myself; the situations themselves were his will for me. What he wanted was for me to accept these situations as from his hands, to let go of the reins and place myself entirely at his disposal. He was asking He of me an act of total trust, allowing for no interference or restless striving on my part, no reservations, no exceptions, no areas where I could set conditions or seem to hesitate. He was asking a complete gift of self, nothing held back. It demanded absolute faith: faith in God's existence, in his providence, in his concern for the minutest detail, in his power to sustain me, and in his love protecting me. It meant losing the last hidden doubt, the ultimate fear that God will not be there to bear you up.
It was something like that awful eternity between anxiety and belief when a child first leans back and lets go of all support whatever—only to find that the water truly holds him up and he can float motionless and totally relaxed.
Once understood, it seemed so simple. I was amazed it had taken me so long in terms of time and of suffering to learn this truth. Of course we believe that we depend on God, that his will sustains us in every moment of our life. But we are afraid to put it to the test. There remains deep down in each of us a little nagging doubt, a little knot of fear which we refuse to face or admit even to ourselves, that says, "Suppose it isn't so." We are afraid to abandon ourselves totally into God's hands for fear he will not catch us as we fall. It is the ultimate criterion, the final test of all faith and all belief, and it is present in each of us, lurking unvoiced in a closet of our mind we are afraid to open. It is not really a question of trust in God at all, for we want very much to trust him; it is really a question of our ultimate belief in his existence and his providence, and it demands the purest act of faith..."
From Walter J. Ciszek's book He Leadeth me
Thursday, June 28, 2012
He Leadeth me: the series
From Walter J. Ciszek's book He Leadeth me (updated September 8, 2012)
Faith in him alone June 16, 2012
Painting by Akiane Kramarik Prince of Peace
Faith in him alone June 16, 2012
Seeking and finding God June 22, 2012
In Russia June 24, 2012
What Hell must be like June 28, 2012
Prayer June 30, 2012
Humility is truth July 12, 2012
Abandon self to the Father's will July 15, 2012
The purest act of Faith July 22, 2012
The peace of abandonment to God's will--on a prison train to the labor camps August 6, 2012
Grace unexplainable to those who will not believe September 8, 2012
Prayer June 30, 2012
Humility is truth July 12, 2012
Abandon self to the Father's will July 15, 2012
The purest act of Faith July 22, 2012
The peace of abandonment to God's will--on a prison train to the labor camps August 6, 2012
Grace unexplainable to those who will not believe September 8, 2012
Painting by Akiane Kramarik Prince of Peace
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