A Different Experience of Grace

After over a month of not writing anything, the last thing I thought I'd be blogging about is grace. To be honest, in this dark sojourn of the last two and a half years, I have shied away from writing about the subject. I talk about it occasionally with my sweet hubby Gray and the subject comes up quite a lot with my dear friend and “big brother” Chez, but I just can't seem to make myself write about it.

I believe in grace. Actually, I believe that it is God's gift of grace which saves us. I have had many encounters in my life with grace, but something about the deep heavy darkness of so long a trek through depression's valley has soured my desire to share much of anything with regard to faith, much less, grace. To be honest, I've been so angry at God and have had my faith shaken so profoundly, that there were times I wanted nothing to do with Him or the practice of faith at all. I even considered for a time turning my back on my faith altogether.

But I didn't. 

Despite my anger, despite my tears, despite how excruciatingly painful it has been to continue on in my faith, I have done so. I have sung with my parish choir. I have gone to Mass each Sunday. I have continued to read books about my faith and learn more about my faith. I have prayed, although I'll admit that this was not something I did easily, often, or well. I have continued to pursue the sacraments of confession, the anointing of the sick, and reception of the Holy Eucharist. I have prayed with my family before bedtime. I have read scripture and listened attentively to scripture being proclaimed.

But why? Why keep pursuing things that were causing me such great pain? Why subject myself to such anguish and misery?

Grace.

That's absolutely all it could be.

You see, there are two kinds of grace. There is salvific grace – that is, the kind of grace which saves us and transforms us into the new creatures we are meant to be. It is this grace which helps us become holier in the face of temptation and keeps us on the narrow path which leads to eternal life. There is also actual grace – that is the kind of grace that God gives us which nudges us to do good and avoid evil. Think of actual grace as those little day-to-day impulses we feel that sort of move us in one direction or another as we walk through life. Obviously, grace always moves us toward good.

What has moved me and kept me moving forward in faith when it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do was both salvific grace and actual grace. The salvific grace of my baptism which infused my soul with God's transformative power was at work in me even though I could not feel it or sense it. It was that grace which kept me coming back again and again to Mass, the sacraments, prayer, scripture, and those things which are good for my soul's holiness. It was actual grace which has nudged me to listen and take the advice of my husband, my therapist, my spiritual director Fr. B, and my dear friends Chez and Rikert. They have all given me good advice regarding faith and feelings and pursuing my faith through all this adversity.

What inspired me to write about this was my friend Tara's guest post on her blog. A fellow blogger had written about how God's grace can make even the most bitter days sweet and can transform our darkness into light. I have to admit that the sour taste that has so permeated my journey with depression and my walk with God of late rose up into my mouth, because I have had so many bitter days which have been anything but sweet. In fact, the sweetness of grace just isn't something I've tasted. The grace which has been preached to me has tasted dry and acrid and anything but sweet. It has been, I imagine, what grace tasted like to Job. It is a kind of grace that has, at times, made me angry at God for continuing to nudge me forward and continuing to draw my soul toward Him. It has been a grace that, to be honest, I never wanted.

The thing about grace though is that God doesn't always give us the grace we want. He gives us the grace we need. The grace I wanted was that sweet tasting grace that lets me feel God's presence and nearness. I wanted that grace that makes me desire to pursue Him with everything within me. What I got instead was the grace of an obedient heart.

Somewhere deep inside me, in a place that I never knew existed until these past two and a half years, there is a heart that beats without my efforts. It is a heart that is obedient to His will and His desires for me – even when I am fiercely angry, drowning in despair, and wanting to run away from everything and everyone, including God. I never wanted this, not because obedience is a bad thing or because I am some kind of automaton that is devoid of free will and must obey no matter what (for I must still cooperate with this grace).

I say that I never wanted it, because for me, this grace comes packaged with a cross. Yes, I know that we're all called to carry our cross and yes, maybe I'm being a bit whiny about mine. The thing is, I've often heard people very nonchalantly talk about carrying your cross, but when it comes down to it and you are forced to confront the weight of your own, there's nothing nonchalant or easy about it. My cross is a fierce struggle with severe depression -- which is more than enough on its own -- but that cross is made all the heavier by my having lost all hope of ever getting better on top of it. Having both this grace of an obedient heart and an absolute hopelessness at the same time is like being pulled apart at the mind and soul in some kind of weird tug-of-war. It is a kind of intense suffering that I cannot adequately put into words.

I have struggled for just over two and a half years with a very dark severe depression that has been made all the darker by hopelessness. This lack of hope has been so complete that for a very long time I completely excised it from my vocabulary. No saying things like, “I hope you feel better soon!” or “I hope you have a happy birthday!” It was so agonizing to even say that word aloud that I could hardly breathe when I managed to admit to Pendragon, “I feel hopeless.” This hopelessness has caused many a suicidal thought and has brought me to a place of despair so complete that I was actively planning and fully intending to end my life.

In those moments of despondency when life seemed not worth living, the thing that eventually brought me back from the edge and caused me to choose life, was that grace of an obedient heart. Certainly, I had help from others and even some direct divine intervention, but I know that that grace has been instrumental in saving me each time. My friend Chez told me once that he was proud of me for cooperating with God's grace in those moments. While I know that ultimately, I was the one who decided to not end my life, I know that grace of obedience played a part. I also have a sneaking suspicion that my beloved Gray and both my friends Chez and Rikert possess this grace too.

For that, and for my own grace of an obedient heart, I am grateful, if not necessarily happy. And with that, I continue to move forward. In the last few months I have had some fleeting moments when I thought I felt a flicker of that peaceful grace of God's presence. And then it is gone in a heartbeat. I suppose some would say that's progress. I don't really know. I just know that the grace of obedience is still there, beating away and propelling me to do things – like this blog post – for which God has a reason as yet unrevealed to me. So I take up my cross and follow the grace of this obedient heart.