Ascension of the Lord

As we near the end of Eastertide and approach Pentecost, we this week celebrated the Ascension of the Lord in the liturgy. On this solemn occasion, Christ rose up into heaven, but before doing so, he commissioned the apostles to be disciples unto all of the nations.

I experienced the greatest dark night of my soul on Tuesday, possibly not coincidentally three days before the Ascension. (Or maybe it was two days, but I'm going with three for the sake of symbolism). Though I did not know it, my spirit had been prepared by the Holy Spirit for this evening, for a weaker body might have terminated itself. 

A way that the Lord had prepared my soul, was to use the Lenten and Easter seasons to re-commit to His spiritual body, the Church. He then called me to fast for some weeks prior to my dark night, so that I did not have extra fats or toxins that could cause a physical, and therefore emotional hindrance, and so that I was physically and therefore mentally comfortable enough to sit still and meditate. 

Then He opened my heart so that I could detach from the romantic desires that bestowed so much frustration and pain into my being. For the first time in my life, I loved not myself enough, that I was able to be happy for someone else, even though my ego wept.

And on my dark night, in my desperation to get well, I shared for the first time two things that I kept buried, with people whom I trusted through circumstance, though with I wasn't well acquainted. The responses were not only painful, but in and of themselves crosstalk that was also inconsistent with the Spirit of God. 

I was not only ashamed, but terrified. I felt a loneliness like no other, it was unlike any alienation I had experienced. But the Lord had prepared me, and I knew what I had to do: go even deeper into what had me frightened. I trusted in my efforts, I trusted in Christ, and I went home, knowing that I would make it out on the other end of the passage. 

Before my dark night was over, I went to the Pope's Twitter page to draw inspiration, but instead I saw something alarming. I went onto Google to inconspicuously search for a meaning into what I had perceived to have found, but it was not God's will: it possibly would have been more of a burden than at that time I could have handled. So, I sat down to meditate. I asked the Lord to speak to me, and I heard a voice, "I hate you". I opened my eyes sharply. That was not God. I heard another voice, "Go to bed." That was God, and so I did. 

I retired for the evening, confident in my discernment, my safety, and my faith: I had been victorious.

I arose the next morning, thankful to be alive, and contrite for the selfishness and self-pity that had preceded my tormented soul..All of the pain that I had endured was not of God, but the messages that I recovered from it was. By this time I had been led to a second group of people who were strong and honest and caring enough to help me. I shared with them, and when I spoke, they nodded. I had found my people.

One man has taken me under his wing, and I have been getting stronger everyday, growing more in love, patience, humility, honesty, and forgiveness. This morning Father said that we are all disciples, called to spread the Word of God, come to heal the sick, bind the broken, comfort the downtrodden, care for the destitute, bring light to where there is darkness.

Every human plays a role: we all stretch out into different directions, retrieving the lost. I know what my role is now - to welcome those so assaulted, so alone, that they want to die. Like how I did. My soul went into Sheol, but it has arisen with Christ who now dwells within me. And I can show you how to get back, too.