Conversion

"He that dwells in the aid of the Most High, shall abide under the protection of the God of heaven." This is
the risky security of the Christian. We must be convinced that God hears us, that he is concerned about us. If
we are, we will feel completely at peace. But living with God is indeed a risky business, for he will not share
things: he wants everything. And if we move toward him, it means we must be ready for a new conversion,
to take new bearings, to listen more attentively to his inspirations — those holy desires that he provokes in
every soul — and to put them into practice.

Since our first conscious decision really to follow the teaching of Christ, we have no doubt made good
progress along the way of faithfulness to his word. And yet isn't it true that there is still much to be done?
Isn't it true, particularly, that there is still so much pride in us? We need, most probably, to change again, to
be more loyal and humble, so that we become less selfish and let Christ grow in us, for "He must become
more and more, I must become less and less."

We cannot stay still. We must keep going ahead toward the goal St Paul marks out: "It is not I who live, it is
Christ that lives in me." This is a high and very noble ambition, this identification with Christ, this holiness.
But there is no other way if we are to be consistent with the divine life God has sown in our souls in baptism.
To advance we must progress in holiness. Shying away from holiness implies refusing our christian life its
natural growth. The fire of God's love needs to be fed. It must grow each day, gathering strength in our soul;
and a fire is maintained by burning more things. If we don't feed it, it may die.

Remember what St Augustine said: "If you say 'enough,' you are lost. Go further, keep going. Don't stay in
the same place, don't go back, don't go off the road." Lent should suggest to us these basic questions: Am I
advancing in my faithfulness to Christ, in my desire for holiness, in a generous apostolate in my daily life, in
my ordinary work among my colleagues?

Each one of us, silently, should answer these questions, and he will see that he needs to change again if
Christ is to live in him, if Jesus' image is to be reflected clearly in his behaviour. "If any man has a mind to
come my way, let him renounce self, and take up his cross daily and follow me." Christ is saying this again,
to us, whispering it in our ears: the cross each day. As St Jerome puts it: "Not only in time of persecution or
when we have the chance of martyrdom, but in all circumstances, in everything we do and think, in
everything we say, let us deny what we used to be and let us confess what we now are, reborn as we have
been in Christ."

It's an echo of St Paul's words: "Once you were all darkness. Now, in the Lord, you are all daylight. You
must live as children of the light. Where light has its effect, men walk in all goodness, holiness and truth,
seeking those things which please God."

Conversion is the task of a moment; sanctification is the work of a lifetime. The divine seed of charity, which
God has sown in our souls, wants to grow, to express itself in action, to yield results which continually
coincide with what God wants. Therefore, we must be ready to begin again, to find again — in new
situations — the light and the stimulus of our first conversion. And that is why we must prepare with a deep
examination of conscience, asking our Lord for his help, so that we'll know him and ourselves better. If we
want to be converted again, there's no other way.

Reference: Josemaria Escriva. “The conversion of the children of God,” number 58, chapter 6 from Christ is
passing by (Scepter Publishers, New York, 1974).

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Great Desires, Humility, and Peace
1. We must be souls of great desires.
In order to give our Lord love for love, we must be souls of desire. Nothing great ever comes without great
desires.
We must desire to be not only good, but holy.
What will men not do to gain public recognition? And you and I, called to partake in the intimate life of the
Holy Trinity, to know God as He knows Himself, to love Him as He loves Himself---how sad it would
be if you and I were merely to creep along in indifference!
Routine, terrible routine, is the daughter of apathy.
In order to rise out of mediocrity and Lukewarmness, let us you and I renew our desires.
Along with these great desires, keep a profound, convinced, sincere sense of your weakness and impotence.
How many souls who have experienced these great desires, these beautiful enthusiasms, yet, in admitting
their weaknesses, their apparent mediocrity, their lack of progress, have let themselves little by little be
overrun by discouragement.
They say: “Holiness is not for me. I believed it was; I wanted it, but I must come down a peg.” And the devil
seizes on this and profits by such an abdication to make them give up the fight and to break down
every good impulse.
Let us you and I not fall into this snare. Rather let us renew our desires on a foundation of profound humility.
2. We need to constantly grow in humility.
Since the fall, we are all proud men. We want to dominate; we want to command; we want to be appreciated;
we want to be applauded. Contempt and indifference leave a profound sadness, a painful bitterness in
our souls.
It will help you and me more than anything else when we are forsaken, wrongly judged, calumniated, or
rejected to think of our Lord’s humiliations. When you are suffering under the blow of a humiliation,
think of those He endured. He was not obliged to suffer them, but He knew how hard it would be for
us to be humiliated, so He Himself willed to be the first to show us the way, in order to be able to say
to us, “Where I have passed, you can pass too.” This is all the more true because we do not walk in His
footsteps, but are carried by Him.
Our Lord was infinite innocence and purity. We are all guilty. Whatever the injustice which falls on us, we
can always tell ourselves that we have merited it, if not at the present time, at least by our past faults.
To practice this is a difficult thing: not to protest, not to take offense, not to complain. Under the pretext of
dignity, of justice, what hindrances we place in the way of humility! The majority of hurts, offended
feelings, grudges, and bitterness in life with others come from this obsession with our rights, this need
for esteem, so strongly woven into our “self.” He or she who honestly puts herself in the last place is
not astonished when others put her there, too.
We must be humble in accepting our lack of success. The intoxication of praise, of adulation, turns a
person’s head, sometimes to the point of dizziness. When everything is successful, when a person
receives nothing but applause, how could he or she not believe herself to be something or someone
important? That is the danger of prominent positions. Therefore let us you and I bless the humiliation
which disillusions and which saves.
We must strive to be humble in accepting our mistakes, to know how to say, “I was wrong.” It is not easy; it
costs something.
To know how to hold ourselves in contempt, to seek advice or counsel, and, at the same time, not to be
preoccupied with the opinion of creatures, with what people will say. When we decide on some action,
nine times out of ten, we keep asking ourselves, “What are people going to think? What will so-and-so
think if I do that?” and not, “What will our Lord think?”
We may have seen souls paralyzed by a small humiliation. This person cannot bear the slightest pinprick,
while that one cannot stand a contradiction, and chasms are thus created between people. Each one
shuts herself up in her revolt, and bitterness spreads in her heart.
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Another consequence of offended self-love is getting all upset. After a fall and seeing ourselves on the
ground, rather than simply recognizing our own weakness and impotence, and remaining in peace, you
and I can conclude, “I shall never succeed. I give up. It is useless.” That is really rebellious
discouragement. The one who is truly childlike is not surprised if she stumbles. She falls and picks
herself up again without wearying, each time more determined to attain her goal.
A ravishing form of humility is obedience.
What within ourselves is most intimately ours? Our own will: that is the center of our person. To die to
ourselves is to die to what we cling to most: our own will. Only obedience can bring about in us this
crucifixion and this liberation.
God speaks to us in two ways: He speaks in the intimacy of the mind and heart by interior lights, by touches
of His grace, by good inspirations, and by holy desires. And He speaks externally by visible legitimate
authority. If there is a conflict between the two, which must take precedence? Which will be the will of
God? Always and everywhere, the word of the external authority.
All the security of the children of the Church comes from that. At first glance, it would seem that it would be
better to obey an interior voice which would be the direct voice of God, but it is not that way. God did
not will to do that, doubtless so that we would rely more on faith. Thus things have the appearance of
operating humanly; but they are actually all the more divine.
How amazing is this omnipotence of God, who, in respecting the liberty of each of us, will never hold
against us an act of submission to an intermediary designated by Him.
It is our Lord who will give you and me this humility and submission in the measure that you and I desire
them and ask for them, with confidence, in our prayers.
3. We must be sowers of peace and joy.
What will crown this humility, this confidence, this abandonment to Divine Providence? The peace which
our Lord came to bring upon the earth.
This peace comes through fidelity to grace, fidelity to confidence. It gives sweetness to our intimacy with our
Lord. To lose confidence is to draw back from His arms, and at the same time it is to lose peace.
The fruit of this peace is supernatural calm. The devil fishes in troubled waters. Whoever lets herself be
troubled does not see clearly anymore, stumbles, falls into a panic, and ceases to judge rightly. We can
be very shaken, very upset, as long as it is only on the surface, but the depths of our souls must remain
tranquil as the depths of the ocean, even during the greatest storms.
We may weep in bereavement or misfortune, but weep in peace. You and I may lose everything, but you and
I do not have the right to lose our peace. Be peaceful in the failures in your spiritual life, peaceful in
the failures of your apostolate. You and I spend ourselves, devote ourselves, and almost kill ourselves,
often to arrive at the most disappointing results.
Another fruit of peace is equilibrium of soul. Peaceful souls are neither pessimists nor neurotics. They are
not smug optimists, but have a wise and legitimate optimism, based on the Heart of Jesus, for they
know nothing happens but what God wills and that for the man or woman who lives in faith,
everything is grace, everything is love.
Remember that the grace of our Lord is sufficient for you and for me, and that it will never be lacking. It is
so important to find calmness right away again after each fall!
“We know,” says St. Paul, “that for those who love God, all things work together for good.” “Even their
sins,” adds St. Augustine.
Trouble, sadness, and bitterness after a sin often come from offended self-love. We regret less the sin as such
than the fact that it humiliates us.
On the other hand, this inner serenity which appears externally from the faces of those who are untied to God
is a true sermon, for it is a great glory for our Lord that His best servants, His friends, His apostles, are
so tranquil, so happily peaceful under His gaze, in the radiance of His heart.
It is a duty for you and I to spread this sweet and joyful peace around us, but, as St. Therese of Lisieux so
knowingly remarked, “not like judges of peace, but like angels of peace.”
The first way to work for peace in the world is to let our Lord establish it in our souls.

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Reference:

Rev. Jean C. J. d'Elbeé. "Great Desires, Humility, and Peace." chapter 5 from I Believe in Love: Personal
Retreat Based on the Teaching of St. St. Thérèse of Lisieux (Manchester, NH: Sophia Institute Press, 2001):
115-140.