By: Dr. Greg Bottaro

 

Pope Francis’s  encyclical on faith  may seem like old news compared to the headlines he’s made since he released it. There is probably enough material in that one little document to keep me writing for the rest of the year though, and I think it deserves much more attention than its been given. Obviously I read it with my psychology lenses on, which is only one perspective.

The introduction to the encyclical reminds us that Christ says, “I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness.” It is this distinction between the light and the dark that I want to elaborate on.

What we first have to realize is that Christ entered a dark world. What was this darkness? What does Christ give us that we don’t otherwise have? What is the darkness that exists as fear in the deepest crevices of the human heart?  Eternal loneliness and misery.  Actually eternity itself is pretty scary. Humans exist in time, which means that the human brain is capable of processing reality from moment to moment. Einstein figured out that our concept of time is not actually objective. There are theories about overlapping time, and somehow if you travel faster than the speed of light, when you get back you haven’t experienced the same amount of time as everyone you left behind. That will really blow your mind if you spend too much time on it. The point here though is that we process time in a certain way. In a sense, our brains create time.

Actually our brains create a lot of things, and they also figure out a lot of things that already exist. Science is a process of trying to figure out what already exists. But again since we humans exist in time, it takes time to figure stuff out. Most scientists pretend that we already know everything, or at least they know everything. The best scientists are the ones who realize there is more we don’t know than what we actually do know. Why do some pretend to know everything? Because time is scary! The fact that time unfolds, and the development of thought and truth progresses means that we do not have all the answers right now.

When studying some peripheral reality, like the meaning of whale noises, it might be acceptable to say, “we aren’t totally positive what this means yet. Further study may reveal the full truth to us.” What about when the study becomes more personal? What about when the question is “what will happen to me?” When we are uncertain of our own future, we tend to get scared.

This means we are actually not in control! This means we might be powerless against something or someone that we don’t even know about yet. It’s scary to not be in control, to live in time where things can change from moment to moment. What we take for granted now might be gone tomorrow. We have no idea what will happen tomorrow.

We are made of both body and soul. The body part of us exists in time, and only knows things from this perspective. The soul part, though, is connected to a reality outside of time. It is the part of us that knows only part of us is processing things in time. The soul is the part of us that can anticipate what will happen in the  future, AFTER this moment. Our souls can anticipate a whole lifetime ahead of time, and then ask the question, “what happens after we die?” (This is not to say the body and soul are separate, but with our soul we have the unique ability to ascend to the level of the eternal realities that make up the objective world- wait that’s too much philosophy.)

So our bodies are stuck in a moment-to-moment reality and we can only really know for 100% sure what is happening right now, but our souls know there is a point when that will run out. WHAT?!? What was God thinking making us this way? How are we supposed to NOT freak out when we think about the fact that we have no idea what will happen to us in the long run?

There are three basic ways of dealing with this reality. One is to pretend like it doesn’t matter. To ignore the heart’s questions and pretend like all that matters is what’s happening right now. “Carpe Diem!” and sometimes, “c’est la vie” sum up this hippie type of attitude. You can only ignore the nagging questions from the heart or cover them over with distractions for so long. Some people pretend to know what happens based on rational thought. “We turn into dust. There is no soul. Heaven is an illusion.” Really? How do you know for sure? I’d like to see the double blind study that produced those valid statistically significant results. My rational mind won’t let me believe in that kind of idiotic faith in bad science. The third option is real faith.

“I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness.”

Christ is the answer to our anxiety. He comes to tell us that all will be well. He is the light for those who believe in him. There are no guarantees here. God doesn’t just wave a magic wand and make everyone happy. There is a huge response on our part that needs to happen — belief. This is faith, to believe in God’s answer to our incessant questioning. He never claimed to answer the specifics of the day to day — how something will turn out, or especially why anything happens the way it does. He only came to tell us that if we believe in him, all will be well for us. Even though our minds can’t figure out how everything is going to happen all at once and hold it in awareness right now, we don’t need to. If we believe in him, all we need is to trust that however it unfolds, it is going to be ok.

Another simple way to think about it is this: God is the all-powerful creator and king of the universe. He is also a father who is madly in love with his children. If your dad was the all-powerful king of the universe, and you knew he loved you, would you ever be worried about anything? He is, and he does.

Credit to Greg Bottaro of CatholicExchange.

 

By: Benjamin Mann

I dislike the word “depression.”It doesn’t evoke the state of mind it signifies.  I especially dislike the phrase “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” often used for the kind of depression that strikes in winter.

But we make do with the words we have — especially those of us who must periodically explain why we find Advent to be a difficult time of year.

Even with these psychological terms at hand, I find depression hard to discuss — not because it’s too personal, but because it makes so little sense. Seasonal depression, in particular, is a mystery to me: a sort of black-box, a brute fact I can’t peer into.

But I don’t necessarily need to understand depression. There’s a Buddhist saying I like, in this regard: When you’re wounded by an arrow, don’t waste time wondering who shot it. Just deal with the wound. Be practical, in other words: change your thoughts, your behaviors, your perspective.

Good advice, as far as it goes. Even then, however, relief is not guaranteed. Sometimes there is no way out — or rather, “the way out is through.”

I’m not qualified to offer psychological advice on finding relief from depression. You’ll have to look elsewhere for that — and if you need to, you should. What I can offer are my thoughts on finding God in the midst of mental suffering.

Grace is not an antidepressant or a painkiller. But God’s presence transfigures our pain, and reveals its ultimate meaning. It is never easy, but always possible, to find God in suffering. We can begin by examining a basic duality within ourselves.

*

Faith and experience tell me that I am, in a sense, two different people. There is the person God intends me to be; and there is person I make myself into, when I fail to cooperate with grace.

St. Paul speaks of this split in terms of the New Man and the Old Man, or the “spiritual man” and the “natural man.” Thomas Merton uses the terms “Real Self” and “False Self” for the same reality — because the self I construct on my own, apart from God, is ultimately hollow and deceptive.

Since we are speaking about psychological matters, we can consider this same duality in terms of the  “Big Mind” and the “Small Mind.” Both of these minds can suffer the Cross of depression — but with quite different results.

What I mean by the Big Mind, is what St. Paul means when he says: “We have the mind of Christ.” (1 Cor. 2:16). And likewise, when he says: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 2:5)

This mind judges with wisdom, seeing things as they are rather than projecting desires onto them. The Mind of Christ is joined to God, awake to the present moment, and attuned to other people. This is its “bigness.”

But the “Small Mind” corresponds to what the apostle says of the unspiritual man. He is closed off from the life of the Holy Spirit, trapped instead in his own desires and aims. This also puts him at a distance from others and the life around him. Hence, the “smallness” of this mind.

Experience confirms this divide in us. There is the self-centered “me” who seeks comfort and pleasure, living for himself. He alternates — ironically — between ignoring God and other people one moment, and lamenting his apparent (though only apparent) state of isolation a minute later.

Depression is a disaster for the Small Mind. Comfort and pleasure stop being comfortable and pleasant. Doing what I want isn’t satisfying. My focus is turned inward, but I don’t like what I see. The Small Mind loses its normal satisfactions, but has nothing else to feed on.

Yet this Small Mind is not the only mind in me. “We have the mind of Christ” — the Big Mind, conferred by God through baptism and the other sacraments.

The Big Mind is not self-absorbed or self-centered. It is centered on God, and effortlessly united with him in Christ. This mind forgets itself before the reality of God’s presence; its own desires are eclipsed by the reality of God’s will in the present moment.

This mind is clear and calm, even in the midst of suffering. It does not make irrational choices out of pride or fear. The stresses and labors of life cannot sever its union with God, which it possesses with no effort — for it is Christ’s own mind, given to us.

In the Big Mind, our self-consciousness gives way to “Big Awareness”: consciousness of God, other people, and the present moment. C.S. Lewis summed up this mode of consciousness well, when he taught that the best response to God’s presence was “to forget about yourself altogether.”

*

Some people assume the Mind of Christ cannot suffer depression — but this is not true. Our Lord was “a man of sorrows,” bearing grief in solidarity with us. Union with God is not an anesthetic: indeed, the Big Mind — our Christ Mind — is often awakened and developed through suffering.

The point is not to escape pain, but to go through it with wisdom, love, and the awareness of God. The Big Mind, joined with God and centered on him, can do this in a way our ordinary Small Mind cannot.

Depression can wipe out comfort, pleasure, my sense of accomplishment, my self-satisfaction. If my life is built on the sand-foundation of those things, I may be swept away with them. But depression can’t overcome our true foundation.

I may feel far from God, but God is close to us; and in the state of grace, I am already one with him in Christ. If God’s will seems elusive, his providence means I can find it in each moment’s duty. And when I dare to forget myself altogether, God makes himself felt, in the very freedom of my doing so.

These are not abstractions. They are realities we can experience, if we are willing to pray, and to live with an awakened and watchful spirit.

Suffering tends to prune away complicated prayer methods — leaving what is simple, and often best. Some of the Desert Fathers would repeat a single phrase: “Jesus, help me.” “God, come to my assistance.” But they did so with patience and perseverance.

In the tradition of Eastern Christian monasticism, I have learned to set aside thoughts, and let them be replaced with prayer: such as the slow, word-by-word repetition of the “Our Father”; the invocation of the Name of Jesus; or simply a wordless silence, acknowledging the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Depression has taught me a lot about prayer. But prayer is not a cure for depression: it is a cure for illusion. Prayer dispels our illusion of separation from God, and removes the impediments that can turn that illusion into a kind of reality.

Suffering is inevitable, and depression rarely has a quick fix. But it is always possible to pray, to forget ourselves, and to attend to the present moment.

Then we can enter effortlessly into the presence of God, who is already with us. We can recall our identity in Christ — who unites us with God, and gives us his own mind.

It is not easy to set aside the self-centered Small Mind, and put on the Mind of Christ. Yet God makes it possible. If we turn to him, we have his promise: even in our suffering, “the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7).

Credit to Benjamin Mann of CatholicExchange.

 

By: Benjamin Mann

This is not the column I planned to write.  I had a string of ideas set down, about a different topic. When I began writing, however, God surprised me.

First I sat down and typed this, the intended beginning of the other column:

 “Both Scripture and the saints tell us that we should not fear the devil: for even to fear him is to give him an illegitimate power over us.”

But then, I wrote this:

“In fact, we should not have a slavish or cowardly fear of anything at all; even our ‘fear of God’ is simply a kind of loving awe and reverence before His supreme goodness.”

Too much of the time, unfortunately, this is not how I live. Let me explain.

*

I live with  Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder  (OCD), which means living with fear — a recurring fear that small, everyday mistakes will have terrible consequences:

“I don’t know whether I wiped my feet enough times, when I came out of the snow into the store. Someone could slip on the wet floor, fracture their skull, and be paralyzed.”

“Maybe I didn’t shut the lobby door hard enough when I left the apartment. What if someone gains access to the building and commits a crime?”

“Was that just a bump in the road? What if I actually killed a pedestrian, and didn’t even know it?”

Those are obsessions. Compulsions are the various things we do, either to try and fix these supposed mistakes (grab paper towels from the bathroom and start blottting the floor; drive home and repeatedly re-close the door; drive around in circles “making sure” there is no dead jogger), or to guard against them.

While I have been spared some manifestations of OCD, I have not been spared the affliction of  religious scrupulosity. This involves an obsessive fear of offending God, incurring the guilt of  mortal sin, and suffering eternal punishment.

Of course, we should be averse to all sin, especially grave sin. But scrupulosity is very different from a healthy aversion to sin. Scrupulosity turns the Christian life into torture, and fosters a warped view of God.

For many people, including myself, scrupulosity is a form of OCD. Thus, it causes obsessive thoughts, and prompts various compulsions: incessant apologizing, repeated and meticulous questions, “checking” rituals, and — for some people — over-frequent, obsessive use of sacramental Confession.

*

I have lived with OCD from a young age, perhaps 5 or 6. I assumed — wrongly — that it would get better “on its own.” In fact, it got worse during my 20s.

Even during my years as an atheist (roughly ages 9 to 21), I sometimes experienced a kind of “secular scrupulosity,” sometimes called Moral OCD. As a Catholic, I have not always lived with scrupulosity; but the problem has persisted since it first began some years ago.

One of the odd things about OCD and scrupulosity — and similar problems like  depression  — is how long it can take a person to become motivated to make changes. We become “comfortably uncomfortable”: accustomed to suffering, and able to disguise our problems well enough in most situations.

As far as I can tell, there are two basic reasons why a person will stop living with habitual mental suffering, and do something about it. Either it stands in the way of something desirable, which provides an incentive to change; or it simply becomes unmanageable, and some change then becomes imperative.

For me, the second kind of incentive never kicked in. My OCD and scrupulosity never became unmanageable. I could grit my teeth and “limp along,” narrowly avoiding the sort of crisis that would have forced a change.

However, the incentive to seek treatment finally did come, in three distinct stages.

The first incentive to change was simple: I finally decided to begin the process of becoming a monk. During my first visit to  Holy Resurrection Monastery, I saw that “limping along” — managing and hiding an untreated problem like OCD — would be more difficult, or even impossible, in that setting.

The second incentive was more subtle. I began reading authors who stressed the value of living consciously in God’s presence, and committing oneself to his providential care at all times. But when I tried to apply these teachings to my life, I ran into a roadblock due to my OCD and scrupulosity.

Because of these problems, I had grown accustomed to keeping God “at a distance” much of the time, and regarding him (in practice, though not intentionally or in theory) with an attitude that was not particularly trustful or loving. These deeply ingrained mental habits made it hard to apply the wisdom of the saints.

Nor could I simply change my state of mind — from scrupulosity and distance, to trustful divine intimacy — by mere willpower. To progress in my practice, I would have to clear away certain mental obstacles. This was the second incentive to change.

There is a third and final incentive, which has prompted me to begin confronting and changing my OCD and scrupulosity. In short, I realized how much these afflictions had subtly corrupted my image of God, and warped my perception of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Again, this distortion occurred in practice, not in theory. Without denying God’s love and mercy, I let it recede into an abstract vagueness. The “other side of the coin” — our capacity to shut ourselves out of the Kingdom, to commit acts that radically estrange us from Christ — loomed much larger.

In this mindset, daily life gradually ceases to be a source of joy and a place of encounter with God. It becomes more like a grueling obstacle course, or a solitary tightrope-walk.

Thankfully, God had provided me with at least one distinct refuge. In the practice of silent, wordless, non-conceptual contemplative prayer, I was still able to relate to the Lord in a healthy way. If I could not do so consistently in the remainder of life, I could at least do it in that setting.

This non-discursive form of prayer would, at least temporarily, clear away the anxieties that distorted my view of God. When I came before the Lord in this supremely simple way, things were clear. His love was no longer abstract. It was Reality Itself.

However, back in the ordinary world of thoughts and words, life was not improving much. A priest I know well asked me: “Why can’t you carry your experience in contemplative prayer, into the rest of your life?” Something was obviously lacking — not in my prayer life, perhaps, but elsewhere.

*

There was no single, dramatic “moment of decision” for me. As the incentives to work on my OCD and scrupulosity gradually accumulated, my willingness grew as well.

Some outside factors have also helped push me toward treatment.

One of those factors, it turns out, is Pope Francis. While the Pope is not saying anything fundamentally new, his  focus on the essence of the Gospel  has helped me return to the basics of what I believe — about the God who is “on our side” and loves us more than words can say.

As a result, I feel motivated to rid myself of whatever obscures this truth — as scrupulosity and OCD (as well as depression) certainly have.

Another outside influence is St. Josemaria Escriva. I am not directly connected to Opus Dei (whose spirituality is very different from Eastern monasticism); but I appreciate their founder’s  emphasis on  “divine filiation” in Christ — having God as one’s own Father, by grace.

Here, again, I find motivation to do what it takes to be free from anxiety and servile fear — attitudes that are incompatible with divine sonship. “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’” (Rom. 8:15, NAB).

The most powerful outside influence, however, comes from simply reflecting on the person of Jesus.

Through him, we know the supreme trustworthiness of God. His incarnate life is an image of the trust we, too, ought to have in the Father. Through him, and because of him, we know that the confidence of faith is ultimately incompatible with fear: “Do not fear, only believe.” (Mark 5:36, RSV-CE).

Scrupulosity and OCD once seemed like “erring on the safe side.” But this is false. It is not safe to live in the presence of one’s anxieties, moreso than in God’s presence. It is dangerous to confuse the true “fear of the Lord” — adoration and awe before God’s goodness — with an obsessive dread of forfeiting his favor.

Fear and trust are both habits of mind, learned and developed over time. We cannot instantly switch from fear to trust by a single act of will.

For those who live with fear, it is not just a question of “having enough faith,” or intellectually affirming a correct view of God. It is a matter of continuing conversion, often requiring patience and professional help.

But patience is not passivity. That deeper conversion, from servile fear to the “glorious liberty of the children of God” (Rom. 8:21) rarely happens in some automatic, spontaneous way.

Fearless trust in God will not just appear overnight. We must have the boldness to desire it. That is not the whole journey, but it is a necessary first step.

Credit to Benjamin Mann of CatholicExchange.

 

By: Dr. Gregory  Popcak

We believe so many lies about ourselves.   We believe we’re hopeless, that  we  can never change, that  things  will never change, that nothing we do matters, that we don’t deserve  love  or goodness or justice or dignity or a million other things.   We are trapped by the lies we tell ourselves and the lies that others tell us.

Consolations V. Desolations

Jesus told us that   the  truth  will set us free (c.f., Jn 8:32).   St Ignatius of Loyola developed a system  of discernment that could  help us to determine the difference between movements of good spirits and movements of evil spirits.     A million or more times a day, a thought will pop into our head.   We have no idea where these thoughts come from but if we own them and take them in, they will affect our emotions and behavior.   If we let them pass through our minds without claiming them, they leave us unaffected.   In a sense, we could say that these thoughts are the result of good spirits and bad spirits whispering thoughts into our spiritual ear.   We have free will, so they have no direct power over us, but if they can persuade us to accept their whisperings as true, those thoughts become part of who we are, how we feel, and how we act.     It is our job to learn which of these whisperings we should attend to and which we should ignore.   St. Ignatius called the thoughts and feelings that draw us closer to God and his will “consolations.”   In spite of their name, consolations don’t always feel good, but they always cause to have clarity of the best and godliest way to respond to our circumstances.   If we attend and act upon those consolations, we can discover God’s will for our lives and fulfill our destiny of becoming whole in this life and happy with God in the next.

Similarly, St. Ignatius called the thoughts and feelings that move us away from God and his will “desolations” because they tend to separate us from God and make us feel powerless, hopeless, and self-indulgent.   The more we attend to these desolations, the more we pull away from God and become confused about who we are and how we are to live.

Cognitive Distortions

In addition to these spiritual helps, cognitive  psychotherapy has identified 15 Cognitive Distortions.   These distortions represent the lies we hear in our heads about who we are and how life works.   The more we believe these lies, the more complicated, confusing, and unhealthy our life and relationships become.

I would argue that just as God is the author of all truth whether found in revelation or nature, we know that Satan is the Father of Lies.   As such, whether the lies we hear in our heads are of a more spiritual or psychological nature, we can understand that all of these lies spring from Satan’s own heart.   By uncovering those lies and exposing them for what they are we can begin to live in the truth.   Here is a complete list of the 15 Cognitive Distortions that wreck our lives, ruin our relationships and steal our peace.   Are you living in the truth that will set you free?   Read through the list to see what lies are holding you back (H/T  PsychCentral).

1. Filtering.

We take the negative details and magnify them while filtering out all positive aspects of a situation. For instance, a person may pick out a single, unpleasant detail and dwell on it exclusively so that their vision of reality becomes darkened or distorted.

2. Polarized Thinking (or “Black and White” Thinking).

In polarized thinking, things are either “black-or-white.” We have to be perfect or we’re a failure – there is no middle ground. You place people or situations in “either/or” categories, with no shades of gray or allowing for the complexity of most people and situations. If your performance falls short of perfect, you see yourself as a total failure.

3. Overgeneralization.

In this cognitive distortion, we come to a general conclusion based on a single incident or a single piece of evidence. If something bad happens only once, we expect it to happen over and over again. A person may see a single, unpleasant event as part of a never-ending pattern of defeat.

4. Jumping to Conclusions.

Without individuals saying so, we know what they are feeling and why they act the way they do. In particular, we are able to determine how people are feeling toward us.

For example, a person may conclude that someone is reacting negatively toward them but doesn’t actually bother to find out if they are correct. Another example is a person may anticipate that things will turn out badly, and will feel convinced that their prediction is already an established fact.

5. Catastrophizing.

We expect disaster to strike, no matter what. This is also referred to as “magnifying or minimizing.” We hear about a problem and use  what if  questions (e.g., “What if tragedy strikes?” “What if it happens to me?”).

For example, a person might exaggerate the importance of insignificant events (such as their mistake, or someone else’s achievement). Or they may inappropriately shrink the magnitude of significant events until they appear tiny (for example, a person’s own desirable qualities or someone else’s imperfections).

6. Personalization.

Personalization is a distortion where a person believes that everything others do or say is some kind of direct, personal reaction to the person. We also compare ourselves to others trying to determine who is smarter, better looking, etc.

A person engaging in personalization may also see themselves as the cause of some unhealthy external event that they were not responsible for. For example, “We were late to the dinner party and  caused  the hostess to overcook the meal. If I had only pushed my husband to leave on time, this wouldn’t have happened.”

7. Control Fallacies.

If we feel  externally controlled, we see ourselves as helpless a victim of fate. For example, “I can’t help it if the quality of the work is poor, my boss demanded I work overtime on it.” The fallacy of  internal control  has us assuming responsibility for the pain and happiness of everyone around us. For example, “Why aren’t you happy? Is it because of something I did?”

8. Fallacy of Fairness.

We feel resentful because we think we know what is fair, but other people won’t agree with us. As our parents tell us, “Life is always fair,” and people who go through life applying a measuring ruler against every situation judging its “fairness” will often feel badly and negative because of it.

9. Blaming.

We hold other people responsible for our pain, or take the other track and blame ourselves for every problem. For example, “Stop making me feel bad about myself!” Nobody can “make” us feel any particular way – only we have control over our own emotions and emotional reactions.

10. Shoulds.

We have a list of ironclad rules about how others and we should behave. People who break the rules make us angry, and we feel guilty when we violate these rules. A person may often believe they are trying to motivate themselves with shoulds and shouldn’ts, as if they have to be punished before they can do anything.

For example, “I really should exercise. I shouldn’t be so lazy.”  Musts  and  oughts  are also offenders. The emotional consequence is guilt. When a person directs  should statements  toward others, they often feel anger, frustration and resentment.

11. Emotional Reasoning.

We believe that what we feel must be true automatically. If we feel stupid and boring, then we must be stupid and boring. You assume that your unhealthy emotions reflect he way things really are – “I feel it, therefore it must be true.”

12. Fallacy of Change.

We expect that other people will change to suit us if we just pressure or cajole them enough. We need to change people because our hopes for happiness seem to depend entirely on them.

13. Global Labeling.

We generalize one or two qualities into a negative global judgment. These are extreme forms of generalizing, and are also referred to as “labeling” and “mislabeling.” Instead of describing an error in context of a specific situation, a person will attach an unhealthy label to themselves.

For example, they may say, “I’m a loser” in a situation where they failed at a specific task. When someone else’s behavior rubs a person the wrong way, they may attach an unhealthy label to him, such as “He’s a real jerk.” Mislabeling involves describing an event with language that is highly colored and emotionally loaded. For example, instead of saying someone drops her children off at daycare every day, a person who is mislabeling might say that “she abandons her children to strangers.”

14. Always Being Right.

We are continually on trial to prove that our opinions and actions are correct. Being wrong is unthinkable and we will go to any length to demonstrate our rightness. For example, “I don’t care how badly arguing with me makes you feel, I’m going to win this argument no matter what because I’m right.” Being right often is more important than the feelings of others around a person who engages in this cognitive distortion, even loved ones.

15. Heaven’s Reward Fallacy.

We expect our sacrifice and self-denial to pay off, as if someone is keeping score. We feel bitter when the reward doesn’t come.

 

By: Fr. Ed Broom

Feeling down in the dumps?    Feeling like nobody really understands nor really cares? Feeling dreary, dark and bewildered and confused?    Feeling as if life does not have any real meaning and purpose?    Feel like just throwing in the towel and saying: I have had enough!

St. Ignatius of Loyola would call this a state of  desolation.  One of the most common manifestations of desolation is that of loneliness–you feel alone in the world and nobody really seems to care about who you are and where you are heading in your life.

If we do not know how to cope properly with this state of desolation then this state can wreak havoc in our lives and do irreparable damage to our spiritual life and even our natural life.  One wrong decision made in a state of desolation could be life-determining.  How many young people today have recourse to violence toward others and turn on themselves when swimming in an apparently endless sea of desolation?

This state of desolation–manifested through a deep sense of loneliness–is all pervasive in all societies and situations today now more than ever!    However, we are a people of hope.    “Our help is in the name of the Lord who made heaven and earth!”  St. Paul reminds us with these encouraging words: “If God is with us who can be against us…” and “When I am weak then I am strong…” (The strength being of course God).      The Psalm calls God a rock, as well as our light and salvation.

To overcome the state of crushing loneliness  that we all experience in some periods of our lives,    let us    have recourse to this simple but efficacious practice that can be carried out anywhere and with minimum effort.

Psalm 23: The Psalm of the Good Shepherd

When the dark clouds rain down their torrential storm upon your lonely and forlorn soul open up your Bible, rewind back to the Old Testament to the most famous of all Psalms, Psalm 23

The Divine Shepherd
A Psalm of David.

¹The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
²He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
³he restores my soul.

He leads me in right paths
for his name’s sake.

⁴Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff–
they comfort me.

⁵You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

⁶Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
my whole life long.

Silence!      

Find some place of silence so that you can read, pray, meditate, listen and allow God to speak to the depths of your heart. God does indeed speak in the silence of our hearts if we allow Him.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want….”      Allow these words at the beginning of Psalm 23 to speak personally and intimately to you and to your lonely and abandoned soul!    Pray these words slowly, calmly and with a truly open spirit.    Pray them a second or third time.      Then something powerful may happen!    God’s gentle but powerful grace will touch the depths of your soul with this knowledge: I really am not alone; I never have been alone in my life; I never really will be alone for this simple but profound reason:  “The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want…”

Contemplative Scene.  Then from there create a contemplative scene with you alone walking with Jesus the Good Shepherd in the verdant, aromatic pasture. Stop and look into the eyes of the Good Shepherd who truly loves you as the precious apple of His eye.  You are of great importance to Him now and always!    He came to the world to save you, your immortal soul as if you were the only person in the whole created universe!

Unload. Now is the time to open up your wounded, lonely, sad and depressed heart and to talk to Him!    Of all the people in the world, the Good Shepherd is the best of listeners.    Not only does He listen to our words but can also read the deepest secrets of our hearts!      There is no need to put on a mask with Him. He knows you even better than you know yourself!      If ever there were a mind-reader or a heart reader, it would definitely be Jesus, the Good Shepherd.

Be not afraid. St. John Paul II insisted at the outset of his inspiring pontificate that the world at large as well as individual hearts should not be afraid to open the door to Christ, in other words to open up their hearts to Jesus, the Good Shepherd of their lives!

What and How to Say It

Use the simplest words; the Lord is not picky or demanding in language proficiency. Tell Him all. Remember the words of the Apostle St. Peter:    “Cast your cares upon the Lord because he cares for you.”  Are you fearful of the future and what it holds for you? Tell the Lord this!    Do you doubt about the past due to the number and seriousness of your past sins? Cast your sins into the Heart of the Good Shepherd. He did not come for the saints but for sinners.    Is your heart severely wounded even from infancy? Fear not! The Prophet Isaiah teaches us about Jesus’ wounds:    “By His wounds you are healed.”    Are you suffering some form of sickness that seems to have no healing remedy?  Never forget that Jesus healed the blind, the lame, the deaf, the paralytics, the lepers; He even brought the dead back to life. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  Let Jesus be the Doctor of your woundedness and your sicknesses.    Are many fears and doubts looming up before your eyes? Then call out with all of your heart: Jesus I trust in you!

The Good Shepherds Listening Heart

In all that you say to the Good Shepherd He listens most attentively and with a kind, compassionate and loving Heart.  Furthermore, the Good Shepherd is never impatient with anybody. No, He is the epitome of patience. Still more, the Good Shepherd is never too busy to walk with us, listen to us, talk to us and to console us.

In sum, in moments of crushing loneliness do not turn to the false gods of this world–drinking, drugs, porn, illicit    sexuality. These will only cast you into a pit of deeper loneliness.    Rather, turn to the Good Shepherd and open up your lonely heart to Him because in truth “The Lord is my Shepherd there is nothing I shall want…”

Credit to Fr. Ed Broom of CatholicExchange.