Have you ever been surprised by a feeling of despair that doesn’t quite match up with how good your life seems?
By my mid 20’s, I had lived a good life. I hadn’t been subject to wanting materially too much and I’ve been surrounded by a vibrant Catholic community and exceptional opportunities for much of my life. I’ve had a life where I am safe from physical danger and I’ve largely had the resources to “do as I please.” However, a few years ago, I started wrestling with a recurring demon:
Submerged in relative material prosperity, moderate success, and a rich community, I found myself baffled at the sense of impending despair that I was battling. Success could be mine, if I worked hard; I could see ever bigger achievements on the horizon. Yet, even as my life was cruising upwards in a conventional sense, I inexplicably found myself feeling devoid of the purpose I needed to believe that the effort of life was worth it.
It looks like I’m “set” for life. So why the encroaching despair?
I understand that within a Christian context, despair is often defined as a complete loss of hope. It is a word that is associated with suicide and an utter detachment from meaning. I agree with this definition. However, I also propose that if we solely view despair in its most extreme forms, then we risk being able to identify the presence of more subtle strands of despair in our own lives.
Despair doesn’t always come splashing into our lives with dramatic darkness. There are many facets through which despair may enter our lives.
And I noticed in my own life that one way in which despair made an entrance was through disconnection from the creativity of the Holy Spirit.
Let me explain:
We don’t serve a God of convention. We also don’t serve a God who tells us that earthly security tops the hierarchy of values. Our Lord asked a virgin to bear the Incarnation, despite impending ostracization. Jesus was born in a stable. Christ asked his disciples to leave their predictable lives of fishing and tax collecting to embark on a journey of missionary adventure. The Spirit toppled St. Paul off his horse with a blinding light to redirect his life. St. John was given apocalyptic visions of Revelation.
Conventional? No. Safe, in a worldly sense? No.
Certainly, it’s true that not all of the faithful are called to the rugged wildness to which many Biblical characters or saints have been called. But we are all called to rely on the providence of our Lord, with an openness to the leading of His Spirit.
In C.S. Lewis’ fantasy series The Chronicles of Narnia the figure of Christ is represented by a royal lion named Aslan. In Narnia, the main characters meet a pair of beavers who describe Aslan to them.
Mr. Beaver tells Susan that Aslan “is King of the wood and the son of the great emperor-beyond-the-sea. Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great lion.”
Susan asks “Is he – quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
Mrs. Beaver responds, “[I]f there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Battling with this sense of despair, my reflections in prayer have led me to this realization: I’ve too often imagined a Christianity where my path is marked by steady success and adamant plans for a future I choose for myself. God is good, sure. But God is only actually good when I get what I want and life is safe, right?
What if the vibrant sense of meaning that I crave falls outside of convention?
What if the antidote to this creeping sense of despair is found in allowing the Spirit of God to usher me towards a future that is not nearly as safe, but is infinitely better than I could create on my own?
It is no coincidence that God is known as the Creator. He is the infinite Spirit of creativity. He is not the Spirit of convention and predictability. He is the Spirit that created a universe out of nothing. This is the God that we serve: boredom and convention and meaninglessness are utterly foreign to his nature.
So what does that mean for my life?
The Creative Spirit of God is the antidote to the existential despair that can creep into our souls when we settle a little too deeply into the conventions of a modern world that substitutes the American Dream for the adventure of being a disciple.
The genesis of my despair was a forgetfulness of my first calling as a follower of Jesus. I was self-creating a “dream life,” rather than signing up for the Greatest of Adventures.
During his first homily as the Vicar of Christ, Pope John Paul II addressed the endemic despair of a post-Christian culture saying,
“So often today man does not know what is within him, in the depths of his mind and heart. So often he is uncertain about the meaning of his life on this earth. He is assailed by doubt, a doubt which turns into despair. We ask you therefore. . . let Christ speak to man. He alone has words of life, yes, of eternal life.”
The new Pope went on to say,
“Brothers and sisters, do not be afraid to welcome Christ and accept his power…. Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ.”
John Paul II recognized that it is perfectly possible to be “given the world,” and yet still find oneself bogged down by despair.
Over the past year, I have found myself on my knees, again and again, begging the Holy Spirit to give me the fearlessness and trust to lean into his creative power. I’ve created palaces in my mind of what I believed would give me my “best life,” and yet experience and grace has increasingly shown me that man-made palaces are rendered to dust if they remain untethered to God.
Despair may be temporarily chased away by self-constructed gratification, but it will ultimately persist, without God.
While convention and security are by no means bad in and of themselves, I pray for the grace to never forget that I serve the all-powerful Creative God, who infuses rich meaning and magnificent creativity into a life that would be pale, and ultimately nothing, without Him.
Lately, when that sense of despair creeps in, I’ve found great solace in asking the Lord to infuse me with His Spirit of creativity. Perhaps this despair is rooted in an attachment to a convention or plan that I intuitively know is going to fall short of the holy adventure that my soul craves. Perhaps instead of “opening wide the doors to Christ,” I’ve only slightly cracked the door and as a result the sense of meaning and joy that I’m desperate for can’t quite make it in. Life is hard, and I believe that the inherent suffering of life is only given sufficient meaning when I trust in Jesus.
God of Creation, antidote of despair, inspire all of us to follow you, and no one else.