|
For what does it profit a person to gain the whole world yet give up their soul?
—Jesus (Mark 8:36) I’m back to hanging out with Ignatius of Loyola this week. I don’t know the exact reason, but I’ve become more and more interested in the lives and writings of the ancient ones lately. So much today is written for clicks and sales that I think I’ve needed something bigger than the modern American perspective. I don’t mean to sound pretentious—just a little weary of modern voices at the moment. I’ve found that many of the old saints have something to offer that doesn’t feel old at all. Francis of Assisi, Cuthbert, Hildegard of Bingen, Benedict, and Ignatius of Loyola all captivate my mind. They challenged the status quo and called out the life-sucking blandness of acquiring wealth and comfort. They practiced the deep truths of God’s love during massive cultural upheaval. They spoke to their own Christian movements when they had lost the aroma of Christ—and they were willing to be peculiar if that’s what faithfulness required. We need that same countercultural conviction to help us live like Jesus in each generation. I find hope in remembering the Jesus-centered wisdom and practices that keep finding new expressions centuries later. Today holds a simple phrase from St. Ignatius, the man who founded the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) in Spain in the 1500s. He was a rough guy who regularly got into bar fights and wanted to be a mighty soldier until a cannonball blew his leg apart. After that, he had a bunch of botched surgeries to try to look good in tights again (for real), but they left him with a lifelong limp. After reading about the old saints (like Francis!), Jesus led him on a wild journey that ended with him giving away his wealth and laying his armor at the foot of a statue of Mary. His story isn’t an easy one—full of deep internal struggles and long years of feeling disconnected from God. But eventually Ignatius became a humble, compelling spiritual voice. As a result of his struggles, one of his foundational messages to those who followed his movement was to become aware of “disordered affections.” Ignatius realized that for much of his life, his attention and priorities were set on the wrong things. Though they looked admirable at first, they ultimately got in the way of the freedom and joy that came from following Jesus. He called them “affections” because they held deep appeal, but they were “disordered” because they didn’t lead to freedom in God. They had become a greater priority than seeking God’s kingdom. The same is true for us today. Making money, pursuing careers, maintaining political allegiance without discernment, or giving our attention to what's on our phones—these can all get in the way of forming deep relationships and loving the people in front of us. The need for certainty or the desire to keep a perfectly curated life- so many things can become disordered affections if they inhibit our ability to freely and joyfully love God and others. So, like a steering wheel that pulls to the side, we need constant realignment. And like getting full on Halloween candy and having no space in our stomachs for dinner, we need to consider how to reorder our priorities in a way that brings flourishing. Ignatius introduced the Examen, a daily time of prayerful reflection to notice what stirs or resists in our hearts. It’s a space to ask Jesus: What captured my attention today? Did it bring freedom or captivity? Did it move me toward love or selfishness? How can I prioritize what was good and beautiful, and tomorrow reorder what got disordered today? Interestingly, disordered affections aren’t always negative. God created many good things—security, relationships, comfort—that are beautiful when they find their right place in our lives. They become problematic only when our attachment to them moves us away from the freedom of loving God and others. While I enjoy offering new metaphors and stories each week, sometimes the deepest growth comes from simply asking the right old questions. So—what are you most attached to right now? What are the things getting your love and attention (Ignatius called them our “loves”), and are you willing to take an honest look at how they’re ordered? You’re made to be free. You’re made to be loved. You’re made to offer love. Jesus, give us the strength to live in a way that prioritizes what matters most, even when it requires change. Peace, Keith
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
|
RSS Feed