E
Epistemes
Guest
Hello,
I promised myself that I would never post another “negative” thread on CAF ever again after so many of you have done nothing but endured my spiritual trials as I’ve aired them out in public, but I feel particularly sorry for myself today.
I went to Mass this morning and tried praying, but my prayers are scatterbrained and multi-directional with sense of resolution or closure about them and I often end up despairing somewhere in the middle, lamenting how arrogant I am and how I’ll never be able to make any sense out of the spiritual life. During the Our Father, I kind’ve shrank away into obscurity as I imagined confronting the Father in my pitiable state.
I’m particularly sad because no matter what I read, no matter how hard I pray (or not), no matter how hard I try to “enjoy life,” no matter what my priest says, I just can’t seem to believe that Jesus is passionately in love with me. I, for my own part, don’t feel like I love Jesus. Lately, as I’ve been praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary, I’ve imagined, “What if I watched my Lord enduring these sufferings? What would I do?” And I find that I would shamefully stand amongst the crowd just looking and feeling sorry for myself that I’m such a coward to help him. And then he would give me that look – you know that look Jesus gives Judas when the soldiers knock him off the bridge in The Passion of the Christ? – and I would just crumble and run away.
Most of my prayer time is spent just saying, “I’m sorry,” but I don’t even know if I am sorry or what I’m so sorry for. It’s murdering my spirit which longs to love and be loved.
Please ask my new patron saint, St. Gemma, for her prayers for me. I don’t think anyone up there is listening to me lately.
I promised myself that I would never post another “negative” thread on CAF ever again after so many of you have done nothing but endured my spiritual trials as I’ve aired them out in public, but I feel particularly sorry for myself today.
I went to Mass this morning and tried praying, but my prayers are scatterbrained and multi-directional with sense of resolution or closure about them and I often end up despairing somewhere in the middle, lamenting how arrogant I am and how I’ll never be able to make any sense out of the spiritual life. During the Our Father, I kind’ve shrank away into obscurity as I imagined confronting the Father in my pitiable state.
I’m particularly sad because no matter what I read, no matter how hard I pray (or not), no matter how hard I try to “enjoy life,” no matter what my priest says, I just can’t seem to believe that Jesus is passionately in love with me. I, for my own part, don’t feel like I love Jesus. Lately, as I’ve been praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary, I’ve imagined, “What if I watched my Lord enduring these sufferings? What would I do?” And I find that I would shamefully stand amongst the crowd just looking and feeling sorry for myself that I’m such a coward to help him. And then he would give me that look – you know that look Jesus gives Judas when the soldiers knock him off the bridge in The Passion of the Christ? – and I would just crumble and run away.
Most of my prayer time is spent just saying, “I’m sorry,” but I don’t even know if I am sorry or what I’m so sorry for. It’s murdering my spirit which longs to love and be loved.
Please ask my new patron saint, St. Gemma, for her prayers for me. I don’t think anyone up there is listening to me lately.