Let’s be honest: we don’t want to go into the desert. We don’t want to confront our demons. In fact, we don’t want to grow, at least not at the price that the desert fathers required. But true spirituality calls us to die to self and give ourselves completely to God. But that seems a bridge too far and so we constantly put it off until tomorrow, but tomorrow never comes.

There’s a great scene in CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce. A ghost (a person) has a lizard (his rabid sin nature) on his shoulder. The lizard is constantly spewing out lies and tempting the ghost who is more than willing to listen. An angel comes and offers to kill the lizard, but the ghost is unwilling to let him do so. He can’t imagine life without his sin. The angel asks, “Can I kill it?” To which the ghost replies, “I’ll think over what you have said very carefully. I honestly will, but it would be silly to do it now. Some other day, perhaps.” And the angel says, “There is no other day. All days are present now.” (CS Lewis, The Great Divorce, chapter 11).

Remember that line: “There is no other day.” God calls us to give ourselves to him right now and forever.

Henri Nouwen writes:

“We cannot avoid going to the desert if we want to make God our only concern. The desert might mean different things for different people, but by simply staying in the murkiness and ambiguity of our daily lives, we come to know neither God nor the demons and our lives remain absurd or blind. We never come to see reality as it really is, and we build up an inner and outer world of illusion. 

“Paul went to the desert, and so did all great Christian leaders: Benedict, Francis, Martin Luther, John Wesley, George Fox, John Bunyan, Thomas Merton, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa. . . . They all broke out of the ordinary and proper life and went to face the demons. Demons can mean dying children on the streets of Calcutta, a nuclear arsenal that can destroy the world, hunger and other forms of oppression. But as soon as we start taking God seriously, we will know who the enemy is.”

The desert fathers (and one mother) wrote:

“It was said about Abba Agathon that for three years he carried a pebble around in his mouth until he learned to be silent.”         [Nomura, page 5]

“Amma Syncletica said: ‘In the beginning there are a great many battles and a good deal of suffering for those who are advancing towards God and, afterwards, ineffable joy. It is like those who wish to light a fire; at first, they are choked by the smoke and cry, and by this means obtain what they seek: so we also must kindle the divine fire in ourselves through tears and hard work.’”     [Ward, pages 230-231]

“Once some people came to an old man in Thebaid, bringing a person possessed by a demon, hoping that he might be cured by the old man. Being asked persistently for quite some time, the old man finally said to the demon: ‘Go out of God’s creation.’ And the demon replied: ‘I will go out, but let me ask you just one thing. Tell me, who are the goats and who are the sheep?’ Then the old man said: ‘A goat is someone such as I am, but as for the sheep, well, only God knows.’ Hearing this the demon cried out in a loud voice: ‘Look, because of your humility I am going out!’ And he went away that very moment.”         [Nomura, pages 80-81]

“The brothers asked Abba Agatha: ‘Father, which of the virtues of our way of life demands the greatest effort?’ He said to him: ‘Forgive me, but there is no effort comparable to prayer to God. In fact, whenever you want to pray, hostile demons try to interrupt you. Of course, they know that nothing but prayer to God entangles them. Certainly, when you undertake any other good work and persevere in it, you obtain rest. But prayer is a battle all the way to the last breath.’”      [Nomura, page 105]

Three Questions to Ponder

Abba Agathon carried a pebble in his mouth for three years. What would it look like if you decided to make God your only concern?

Paul went into the desert of Arabia. Martin Luther took refuge at Wartburg Castle. Mother Teresa went to Calcutta. What would your desert look like? What would you need to have with you (attitudes, commitments, actions), and what would you have to leave behind?

Why do you think prayer is such a battle for us (and for you, in particular)? 

And a bonus question:

Nouwen writes: “By simply staying in the murkiness and ambiguity of our daily lives, we come to know neither God nor the demons, and our lives remain absurd or blind.” If this is true, what do you need to do to know God? What would that entail?

References:

  • Desert Wisdom, Yushi Nomura, Orbis Books, 1982 (Henri Nouwen wrote the epilogue)
  • The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: An Alphabetical Collection, Benedicta Ward, Cistercian Publications, 1975