Place your hope in God alone. If you notice something good in yourself, give credit to God, not to yourself, but be certain that the evil you commit is always your own and yours to acknowledge. (Rule of St. Benedict 4. 41-43)
Glaciers are receding, and at first the mountains they leave behind are as bare as the moon. But up the stark cliffs the lichen first, then the wild sweet peas, then the alders grow. Evergreen forests, moose and bear come to thrive on slopes relieved of eons of ice. Grizzlies, bald eagles and salmon multiply, given a habitat and half a chance. What about us, can we come back?
It’s a spiritual ice age, these days. Cool people tell us that we emerged randomly from nothing, will soon dissolve into nothing, and that no one cares anyway. They say we’re helpless to control our own impulses; cannot alter our destructive habits; might as well yield to what’s killing us. Give up and despair. Do violence to yourself. End it.
But the Church holds onto the warmth of love and holds out for the thrill of life lived in harmony with our Creator. The Christian hope is redemption.
Redemption is a process, sometimes a slow one. Glaciers and fingernails grow at about the same speed. So do souls. But redemption is a transformation we willingly engage in. We surrender the parts of ourselves that are mean or petty, that clash with the character of our Creator. The God who formed the universe and who endows each tiny creature with its own particular beauty also called each one of us into being. He wants to pull us back from the brink, but he gives us our freedom. We participate willingly or not at all.
First we must reconcile with the source of goodness, in order to develop goodness ourselves. Then we let our old identity die away even as a new identity forms within us. The new person gets up every day and struggles to do the right thing. It’s not a futile struggle. It’s the exertion of a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly. Every decision you make against evil, for good participates in your eternal formation. What you will be has not yet been revealed, but your new form will be glorious. Look around and observe glimpses of glory. God is always at work everywhere for good. Contemplate what he has already done.
Right now you may feel slimy, constrained and exhausted. The effort is part of the process. You get stronger as you try. This is because you’re not just achieving an objective. You’re becoming someone. Morphing from one state of being to a new one, temporarily you have fewer powers, not more. The force of rage has dissipated, because you experience peace within. Your new movements may be awkward at first, but soon enough you’ll stretch wings and be flying. It’s a whole new experience of reality. No regrets for the dry husk left behind.