The Soul In My Keeping

Once, when it seemed to me that my will was altogether too weak, and too much divided, for me to hope of ever attaining blessedness, I thought to comfort myself by considering all those faithful, fortunate souls who now enjoyed God's favor and protection. Though I myself remained in exile, yet I supposed some vicarious peace might come to me if, in all humility, I could still be happy for the blessed.

However, it quickly occurred to me that I was simply not entitled to give up on myself so easily; that my soul was given into my care, and I had better learn to keep and to steward it; that it was, after all, not my own, but the Lord's. All that was good in me belonged to the Lord, and I could not allow that which was worst in me, -- the flesh, the dross, -- to keep me bound, and to bind up the spirit of the Lord in me.

So now I looked upon my soul as something precious and heavenly, though fallen; as a pearl dropped into the mortal clay. It was not me, nor any object belonging to myself, but, rather, something external and otherworldly, belonging to the stars. It was a messianic infant placed in my arms, whom no one would safeguard and raise up plainly if I did not.

In this moment, I cared nothing for myself, yet I cared for my soul more than all, as an emblem of all; for I knew I could bring no other souls to Christ before I had honestly secured the salvation of my own soul in him. As it was mine, so was it His, and everyone's. I looked upon my soul as something wholly other and better than myself, which God had, for mysterious reasons, entrusted to me (no doubt believing in me more than I believed in myself), and the salvation of which entirely depended on me, and on my diligence in offering it back to Him.

Now I know I must learn to care for this Christ-child soul; to cradle it more tenderly than I was able; to reassure it of the blessings of Father, and procure for it that peace which alone renders all souls receptive to the love, charisms, and graces of God.

This soul, I see, is a lamb bound to me, with no other to give her nourishment, nor comfort. Haven't I been a careless shepherd, tugging and dragging her around after me, as I rush off in pursuit of pleasures in which she has no part?

"My soul, my little lamb, my child of God, -- forgive me. I have fed on coarse stuff, and starved you. But now, as I pray over the words of the saints, I see you eating new grass from my hand. As I awaken to the gospel of Christ, I see you drifting to sleep in my lap. As I bury my will in the ground, I see you gambol and play, resurrected. And all my joy is in you."