Skip to main content

Self Care for the Soul

It is a tender, undeniable truth of the spiritual life that real healing often hurts before it frees us. In our modern world, we love the idea of immediate peace and spiritual mountaintops, but St. John of the Cross gently reminds us that true intimacy with God requires a deeper, more intentional housekeeping. He calls this initial stage of the spiritual journey the purgative way—a sacred season of active purification where we intentionally hand over our hidden attachments, habitual sins, and the subtle illusions we build around ourselves. Far from being a harsh punishment or a cold legal obligation, embarking on this path through the Sacrament of Reconciliation is the ultimate act of self-care for the soul. It is the moment we step out of the exhausting shadows of our own making and allow the merciful light of Christ to untangle the knots we cannot undo on our own.

Stepping into the confessional during this purgative season is like opening the windows of a heavy, closed-up room to let the fresh morning air rush in. When we bring our brokenness to the altar of reconciliation, we aren't just reciting a grocery list of failures to a judge; we are laying our wounds before the Divine Physician. St. John of the Cross knew that stripping away our spiritual crutches can feel frightening and exposing, but he also knew that God only empties our hands so that He can fill them with something infinitely greater: Himself. This process of purgation is the necessary, beautiful foundation upon which a lasting, passionate love story with Christ is built. By courageously facing the reality of our need for grace today, we clear the debris from our hearts, paving a wide, unburdened highway for the Holy Spirit to lead us deeper into the profound joy of the transformative way.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Woman, Behold Your Son

The spiritual climax of the Gospel of John, as Father John Waiss points out, occurs at the foot of the Cross, where Jesus utters his parting words: “Woman, behold, your son!” and “Behold your mother!” (John 19:26-27). While these words were addressed to the Apostle John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, the Church has long understood this moment as a universal adoption. To truly image Christ, we must share in His parentage; if we embrace God as our spiritual Father but reject Mary as our mother, we treat Christ as a half-brother rather than our "firstborn among many brethren" (Rom. 8:29). As Origen noted as early as the third century, the profound depths of the Gospel are only accessible to those who, like John, rest their heads on Jesus’ breast and receive Mary into their own homes. This maternal role is deeply rooted in biblical typology, positioning Mary as the fulfillment of the great mothers of the Old Covenant. She is the New Eve , the mother of all the living according ...

The Gentle Art of Holy Surrender

In the quiet, dusty corners of our hearts, we often harbor blueprint drafts of how we think our lives should unfold. We carefully map out our timelines, hoping for a smooth path, and it is only natural to feel a bit lost or weary when a sudden storm alters our course or a door we prayed would open remains closed. Yet, our Lord does not stand at a distance during these moments of uncertainty; He is a tender Shepherd who walks beside us, gently whispering, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope" ( Jeremiah 29:11). When our own plans crumble, it is not a sign that He has abandoned us, but rather an invitation to fold our hands, release our grip on the pen, and offer our own quiet fiat—letting Him guide us into green pastures we could never have found on our own. Placing our trust in His loving providence allows us to breathe deeply and find rest, even when the road ahead is shrouded in mist. E...

Praying With The Five Wounds Of Jesus

I am just beginning to dive into the beautiful, ancient devotion to the Five Wounds of Jesus, and I wanted to share a bit of the journey with you. It can feel a little overwhelming at first to look at the Crucifix this closely, but I’ve found such a gentle guide in St. Bernard of Clairvaux . In his Jubilee Rhythm on the Passion, Bernard doesn't treat the wounds of Jesus as distant historical facts or sights to be avoided. Instead, he approaches them with the tenderness of a friend, speaking directly to the feet, hands, side, and face of our Lord. For someone like me who is just starting out, his rhythm teaches that prayer isn't just about reciting words; it’s a holy hide-and-seek. Bernard invites us to literally hide ourselves within these wounds, seeing them as clefts in the rock where we can find shelter when our own lives feel turbulent or heavy. As I start this process, I’ve been practicing what I call gazing and greeting. Following Bernard’s lead, I look at the Crucifix an...