Many people I know here in the Northeast suffer from the winter blues. The sky is grayer than in summer, sunrise comes later, and sunset arrives all too early. Years ago, I had an office that was in the interior of a building. It was windowless, and there were days when I would go in to work when the sun had only been up for a short time only to find that it was already down by the time I drove home. Now my days begin with walking the dog at the nearby park or at least around the neighborhood, and I have found that I do not get the winter blues quite as much. Sure, I long for the extended days of summer, but I also find joy in the sparkle of newly fallen snow, the silhouette of tree limbs reaching their arms into the sky, or the playfulness of my dog as he romps through the grass. I look for the light, and somehow the light finds me.
St. Ignatius offers advice that speaks to movements in the seasons of our lives, when desolation takes over, and we can feel as though we are stuck in that interior office without windows and without light. I’m not talking about clinical depression, which may require a good therapist, but rather the times when we feel resentful, trapped, unfree, selfish, ungrateful, or just plain blue. Whether it is the state of the world around us that leads us to feel desolate or something in our personal lives, desolation is a part of life.
God leads me not simply away from something but toward something, drawing me through consolation.
First, Ignatius reminds us never to make a major life change in a time of desolation. For example, if in a time of consolation we decided on taking a job, undertaking a project, or committing ourselves to a relationship, we ought to be suspicious if in desolation we just want to quit. Ignatius’s reason is that desolation can easily mislead us; we can be deceived by what he names as the “bad spirit.” This can feel counterintuitive. After all, if I don’t leave a difficult project or end a relationship that no longer functions when I feel bad, then when? However, I have indeed found over time that it is better to wait and to see how God wants to lead me. Then God leads me not simply away from something but toward something, drawing me through consolation.
A friend of mine was angry that the business at which she worked suddenly abandoned a project into which she had poured a good deal of time and energy. She was tempted in her anger to quit but decided to pray over it a while. She did eventually leave her job, but it was not because she felt angry at management. Rather, after a good deal of prayer and conversation with others, she found another opportunity that allowed her to use more of her gifts and talents well. It was attraction to the new place, along with slow and reflective discernment, that allowed her to act from consolation, not desolation.
Second, Ignatius advises that we can choose to believe that consolation will come soon, even though that also seems counterintuitive. He counsels that we try to remember other times when we were desolate and then God came through with consolation. On days when I do not want to get out into the winter cold, I often try to recall how much better I feel when I do take that walk! Likewise, remembering times when God consoled us in grief, led us to forgive when we felt hurt, or gave us insight about how to respond to a difficult situation can give us courage now.
Third, Ignatius tells us to resist actively. That’s right, we don’t just get to wait it out and sulk. We must do our part to say no to the bad spirit. Ignatius suggests prayer and penance. I can share what’s going on in my heart with the Lord or take time to breathe, just knowing that God is with me. Or I might pray a psalm that reflects something of my experience.
Resisting through turning outward rather than inward goes a long way too. Just as we sometimes have to put on those winter boots and trudge out to make the dog happy, it also helps to turn our attention toward loving others. In my friend’s case, she found that babysitting her teething nephew went a long way toward getting her out of the headspace in which she was stuck. We find that there are others more in need than we are—there always are—and by caring for those folks, we resist the bad spirit, who keeps telling us, well, just how bad it is.
Eventually, desolation will give way to consolation; we must trust that it will. Eventually, the sunrise starts earlier, and the days warm again. So, too, does God’s love warm us, and those empty tree limbs are filled with green leaves and life. In the meantime, we can stay the course, remember, and resist.
Photo by Mathias Reding on Pexels.
