My Salvation Is Not About Me
The horizon of my spiritual growth expanded dramatically once I realized my spiritual growth and my salvation were not about me - at least from my perspective. From God's perspective, it is very much about me but, from my perspective, it should be all about God. In fact, as long as I'm concerned about my spiritual growth and my salvation, I'm missing the point and am not ready for Heaven.
At least as far as I can see in my limited way, once I've fallen deeply in love with God (as we are all ultimately called to do), my life is all about Him. I grow not for me but because my holiness is pleasing to Him and my sin grieves Him. I rejoice in salvation not because I have escaped damnation but because salvation is what He wishes for me - He made me to spend eternity with Him and not to be destroyed. I was made for life, not death. I was made to be loved by God and to love Him in return. Thus, I wish to be saved because there is nothing more joyful to God, my Love, than my salvation.
Lately, this understanding that my spiritual growth and salvation are all about God has led me to great boldness in prayer. I ask God to make me a great saint without a saint's reward - not so that I can be great, honored, and esteemed (not that saints are always honored and esteemed in their lifetimes) but so I may bring joy to Him and help His children in the world see what holiness is (certainly, unless God grants me that grace, the world will never see what holiness is by watching me!).
I ask Him even more boldly for two great graces. I look at the greatest of the saints, the greatest example of all our older brothers and sisters, the one who loved Him the most, Mary, the mother of Jesus, and I make the most outrageous request that He grant me the same humility and love for Him as Mary. That is a frightfully presumptuous thing to say; it almost makes me tremble.
But I look at her life and think of how deeply pleasing she must have been to Him. As the greatest human participant in the plan of salvation, beyond even Noah, Moses, and Elijah, she still walked so humbly. The great mother of God, carrying God made flesh in her womb, humbly traveled to care for the needs of her elderly cousin Elizabeth who, pregnant in her old age, probably did not have the help from her own mother a pregnant woman would normally expect. I can see the mother of God cooking, cleaning, washing Elizabeth's feet and rubbing her back.
Then I think of the love and comfort Mary must have given Jesus. Other than perhaps His cousin, John the Baptist, Mary must have been the only one on Earth who really understood Jesus. What comfort she must have been when even His own disciples didn't get it, no less His persecutors. How tender and encouraging her love for Him must have been as she met Him carrying His cross. What strength He might have draw from thinking of her during His agony in the garden. What solace she must have been to Him as He hung dying upon the cross. How deep her love and how much her love must have meant to Him and still does.
Oh, Lord, may I love you like that. Not to compete with her. Not to usurp her reward or the great majesty You have given to her. Not to be exalted but, my Lord, for you, for you only, my Lord. I am so unworthy, so nothing, so less than nothing but, with you Lord, by your grace, even this is not too much to ask. I do not expect to be granted this grace. I do not think I am capable of holding such fullness nor do I believe it to be Your will. But reality and the desires of our heart do not need to match. Rather, look upon my suspension of reality as an expression of the love You have put within me for it is not mine. Oh, Love of my life, oh Everything, do not be offended by my boldness. May it not be polluted by my despicable vanity. May it be pure love from You, Lord. May it be pure love from You, Lord, which drives me to insanity to ask so much, not for me, but Lord, so I may be pleasing to you. Lord, there is nothing more for me to ask. Should I die tonight or live a thousand years, there is only one thing, Lord . . . . help me love You . . . . help me love You . . . . let me love You. I do, my Lord, by Your grace, I do.
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Reply #1 on : Sun November 09, 2008, 15:36:11