Monday, 4 May 2015

Untitled

The hour I found the shame of my priest is the day I dread. At the wee hours of the morning, at last, our glorious guardian angels won the battle against the Enemy, and his serpentine ways exposed.

Feelings of shock and embarrassment crashed upon me like an angry wave upon a rock. Why, I beseech my Lord, was I placed then and there, among all time and space? What was He trying to tell me? What great wisdom am I about to learn, and why does great wisdom always come with great suffering?

I lament the day I asked the Lord for a spiritual director. The priest He sent me was no longer a director but a downfall, no longer a confessor but a concupiscence. Strange times passed me by, during which I saw the man inside the priest and the fallen inside the anointed. At the same time, I also realised my own greed and pride, which had prompted me to unwisely demand to God a certain set of criteria for a confessor. In my pride I thought I knew what was best for me. Indeed, we were both fallen creatures, and look what sin costs us: a friendship, a spiritual love, a father and a daughter.

Nevertheless, I shall praise the Lord forever for He has spared me from my own iniquity. Had I been in the poor girl's place, I would be found disgraced, unfaithful, because my weakness is deep and my want great. I praise the Lord for her ego strength, for even though she seems so meek, she is unyielding still, and even though she looks puny, she is stable. Bless the day our paths crossed; now I have a sister I can cherish and protect, and I know that the Lord has not given up on us.

Thanks to you also, my Queen, my sweet helper; you have not abandoned this wretched daughter who has consecrated herself to you. Blessed are you among women, blessed is your immaculate heart containing only the purest of pure affection, over which deceits and hidden lies have no reign.

There is only one thing more heartbreaking than to tell my sister that we must distance ourselves from the person we trust and love so dearly: it is to see the immediate consequence, that he is now far from us, an object of chaste love no longer lit with its warmth. What a blessing, so delightful it is painful! The sword of truth is indeed the deadliest sword of all, yet most loving and most saving.

And what about prayer? Oh, the swiftest arrow that pierces many hearts! Let me rely on your sure path to pierce my priest's heart! Fly, arrow, and rip apart the shroud of dark temptations and intemperate desires, open the way for divine light to shine through, so that this precious anointed heart may remember again its purpose and dignity.