Treats of the means by which the Lord began to awaken her soul and give it light amid such thick darknesses and strengthen her virtues that she might not offend Him.
WELL, MY SOUL now was tired; and, in spite of its desire, my wretched habits would not allow it rest. It happened to me that one day entering the oratory I saw a statue they had borrowed for a certain feast to be celebrated in the house. It represented the much wounded Christ1 and was very devotional so that beholding it I was utterly distressed in seeing Him that way, for it well represented what He suffered for us. I felt so keenly aware of how poorly I thanked Him for those wounds that, it seems to me, my heart broke. Beseeching Him to strengthen me once and for all that I might not offend Him, I threw myself down before Him with the greatest outpouring of tears.
2. I was very devoted to the glorious Magdalene and frequently thought about her conversion, especially when I received Communion. For since I knew the Lord was certainly present there within me, I, thinking that He would not despise my tears, placed myself at His feet. And I didn’t know what I was saying (He did a great deal who allowed me to shed them for Him, since I so quickly forgot that sentiment); and I commended myself to this glorious saint that she might obtain pardon for me.
3. But in this latter instance with this statue I am speaking of, it seems to me I profited more, for I was very distrustful of myself and placed all my trust in God. I think I then said that I would not rise from there until He granted what I was begging Him for. I believe certainly this was beneficial to me, because from that time I went on improving.
4. This is the method of prayer I then used: since I could not reflect discursively with the intellect, I strove to represent Christ within me, and it did me greater good—in my opinion—to represent Him in those scenes where I saw Him more alone. It seemed to me that being alone and afflicted, as a person in need, He had to accept me. I had many simple thoughts like these.
The scene of His prayer in the garden, especially, was a comfort to me; I strove to be His companion there. If I could, I thought of the sweat and agony He had undergone in that place. I desired to wipe away the sweat He so painfully experienced, but I recall that I never dared to actually do it, since my sins appeared to me so serious. I remained with Him as long as my thoughts allowed me to, for there were many distractions that tormented me. Most nights, for many years before going to bed when I commended myself to God in preparation for sleep, I always pondered for a little while this episode of the prayer in the garden. I did this even before I was a nun since I was told that one gains many indulgences by doing so. I believe my soul gained a great deal through this custom because I began to practice prayer without knowing what it was; and the custom became so habitual that I did not abandon it, just as I did not fail to make the sign of the cross before sleeping.
5. But to return to what I was saying about the torment my distracting thoughts gave me, this torment is a characteristic of the method in which you proceed without discursive reflection on the part of the intellect. For such a method requires that the soul be very advanced, or lost; I mean lost with regard to discursive reflection. In its progress it advances a great deal because it advances in love. But to reach this point the cost is very high, except in the case of persons whom the Lord desires to bring quickly to the prayer of quiet, for I know some. Those who follow this path of no discursive reflection will find that a book can be a help for recollecting oneself quickly. It helped me also to look at fields, or water, or flowers. In these things I found a remembrance of the Creator. I mean that they awakened and recollected me and served as a book and reminded me of my ingratitude and sins. As for heavenly or sublime things, my intellect was so coarse that it could never, never imagine them until the Lord in another way showed them to me.
6. I had such little ability to represent things with my intellect that if I hadn’t seen the things my imagination was not of use to me, as it is to other persons who can imagine things and thus recollect themselves. I could only think about Christ as He was as man, but never in such a way that I could picture Him within myself no matter how much I read about His beauty or how many images I saw of Him. I was like those who are blind or in darkness; they speak with a person and see that that person is with them because they know with certainty that the other is there (I mean they understand and believe this, but they do not see the other); such was the case with me when I thought of our Lord. This was the reason I liked images so much. Unfortunate are those who through their own fault lose this great good. It indeed appears that they do not love the Lord, for if they loved Him they would rejoice to see a portrait of Him, just as here on earth it really gives joy to see one whom you deeply love.
7. At this time they gave me The Confessions of St. Augustine.2 It seems the Lord ordained this, because I had not tried to procure a copy, nor had I ever seen one. I am very fond of St. Augustine, because the convent where I stayed as a lay person belonged to his order;3 and also because he had been a sinner, for I found great consolation in sinners whom, after having been sinners, the Lord brought back to Himself. It seemed to me I could find help in them and that since the Lord had pardoned them He could also pardon me. But there was one thing that left me inconsolable, as I have mentioned, and that was that the Lord called them only once, and they did not turn back and fall again; whereas in my case I had turned back so often that I was worn out from it. But by considering the love He bore me, I regained my courage, for I never lost confidence in His mercy; in myself, I lost it many times.
8. Oh, God help me, how it frightens me, my soul’s blindness despite so much assistance from God! It made me fearful to see how little I could do by myself and how bound I became so that I was unable to resolve to give myself entirely to God.
As I began to read the Confessions, it seemed to me I saw myself in them. I began to commend myself very much to this glorious saint. When I came to the passage where he speaks about his conversion and read how he heard that voice in the garden;4 it only seemed to me, according to what I felt in my heart, that it was I the Lord called. I remained for a long time totally dissolved in tears and feeling within myself utter distress and weariness. Oh, how a soul suffers, God help me, by losing the freedom it should have in being itself; and what torments it undergoes! I marvel now at how I could have lived in such great affliction. May God be praised who gave me the life to rise up from a death so deadly.
9. It seemed to me my soul gained great strength from the Divine Majesty and that He must have heard my cries and taken pity on so many tears.5 The inclination to spend more time with Him began to grow. I started to shun the occasions of sin, because when they were avoided I then returned to loving His Majesty. In my opinion, I clearly understood that I loved Him; but I did not understand as I should have what true love of God consists in.
It doesn’t seem to me I was yet finished preparing myself to desire to serve Him when His Majesty began to favor me again. Apparently, what others strive for with great labor, the Lord gains for me only through my desire to receive it, for He was now, in these later years, giving me delights and favors. I did not beseech Him to give me tenderness of devotion, never would I have dared to do that. I only begged Him to pardon my great sins and to give me the grace not to offend Him. Since I saw that my sins were so great, I would never have had the boldness to desire favors or delights. Clearly, it seems, He took pity on me and showed great mercy in admitting me before Him and bringing me into His presence, for I saw that if He Himself had not accomplished this, I would not have come.
Only once in my life, when in great dryness, do I recall having asked for spiritual delight. And when I became aware of what I was doing, I got so confused that the very annoyance at seeing myself with such lack of humility brought about what I had dared to ask for. I knew well that it was permissible to ask for this, but it seemed to me that such a request was licit for those who were prepared and determined to do every good and not to offend God. It seemed to me that the tears I shed were womanish and without strength since I did not obtain by them what I desired. But still, I believe they were valuable for me because, as I say, especially after these two instances6 of such great compunction and weariness of heart over my sins, I began to give myself more to prayer and to become less involved with things that did me harm, although I still did not avoid them completely; but—as I say—God was helping me turn aside from them. Since His Majesty was not waiting for anything other than some preparedness in me, the spiritual graces went on increasing in the manner I shall tell. It is not a customary thing for the Lord to give them save to those with greater purity of conscience.