That’s what I would prefer to be. Truthfully – can I do a little more than the average “good” Catholic and slip into the gates, maybe with a crowd of people, or slide in a side door? I don’t need a big fanfare of welcome. Part of me wants my life to be relatively easy and uneventful. Not too good so I forget God, but not too bad that I really suffer.

That’s pretty lazy. God wants much more than mediocrity from us. I must admit, I sometimes would rather just sit and watch the show of life. I don’t want to join in a la Joan of Arc, banners blazing, suit of armor gleaming… I’m much more of a quiet soul who, while not quite quiet, is more introspective in my path to sanctification.

Recently I have been barraged with demonic temptations. I have been blessed by a priest, gone to confession, blessed again, cried, tried, kept myself busy, asked for prayers, tried to read, tried to pray, tried to do everything to keep me away from my own head… and it’s a struggle. I actually gave in to some sinful thinking just to be left alone in peace because I was mentally tired. I’ve done it more than once. And truthfully, the peace came but at great price. I was left alone by the imagery, the voices, (I’m not crazy…) and the temptations lurking everywhere, but it was replaced with a feeling of floating away from the safety of the spaceship with my spacesuit tether just severed. That feeling of fear and doom loomed in my chest and I was filled with another kind of sorrow – one in my heart instead of my head. So I asked God for guidance, and as He does, he provided me with respite. My parish priest called me to ask if I could help with something and when I hesitated, he immediately asked if I was alright. I took that as my sign from God. Yes, of course he could meet me for confession first thing in the morning.

I word vomited in the confessional. Things came up I hadn’t thought of in years. YEARS. I was alarmed by everything I said. I also knew this wouldn’t be the last time this would happen and I knew I’d be attacked again. Really, I’d rather just live life simply without any of this. I’d rather just live contemplatively in the presence of Our Lord. But I suppose that isn’t how we achieve holiness.

After a few days, the cycle started again. Again I tried to keep busy, tried to fill my head with other things and just really struggled. Confession, Communion, prayer… all very disorganized and haphazard.

Fr. Chad Ripperger has a talk on combatting the devil in a spiritual attack. It’s about an hour long and the first 30 minutes had me nearly slumped over in defeated realization like when you’re the general of the army, you just see all your legions slowly being beaten by the enemy, and there is nothing you can do. I was surprised by own feelings of discouragement. The purpose of these allowed attacks is to strengthen us. We can’t grow strong without lifting heavy burdens. I know this on a level of intellect, but really would rather, as I said, to squeak into heaven. Lazy me. The one part that really struck me, though, was that the devil preys on fear. When he shows you something, tempts you with something, gives you that idea, and you (I mean I) panic and try to fill your head with stuff, business, and any human thing that you can think of, he knows you’re scared and he’s all over that. When our minds are full of stuff that isn’t fruitful, stuff that isn’t helpful, stuff that isn’t of God, how easy it is to be and feel stressed and flustered. Then we get tired and do what I did – we give in to try to get a break from the mental burden of it all.

So after hearing that fear fuels this fire, I immediately knew I was falling right into that trap. The more I thought about it the more I prayed for strength, for endurance, humility, and for the willingness to suffer. (Fr. Ripperger’s suggestions – not mine.) And the more I asked for this, the more I felt like I was standing proverbially tall, backing up to a standing Christ immediately behind me. I could raise my head, stare temptation in the face and say, “I’m not afraid of you.” I felt Christ behind me. I could run and hide in his wounds. I could feel the warmth of His body, His holy breath. And you know what? That demon stood still. For a few days I basked in the glory of Christ, knowing through Him and only Him, could I ever be brave enough to not be afraid of my own head. After a few more days, I was able to even say, “Do your worst.” I wanted to shake in fear at saying that out loud. And I did a bit. I’m often afraid of my own prayers and I regularly give poor God instructions on how I want Him to answer my prayers. (I call it being specific. Anyway.) But I did shake a bit as I said it, and then the power of Christ behind me gave me strength, as I had asked and I was able to say to that demon – “Yes. Your worst is no match for God, who is my strength.”

I really thought the demon would snarl and scowl, or be angry or have any sort of Hollywood style disgusting response, but he didn’t. He just kind of slunk over in mild defeat and maybe a little bit of disappointed admiration. Kind of like when someone beats you at a game and you’re disappointed you lost, but admire their skill. They finally found your achilles heel. It was weird. For a moment I felt sorry for him. He can’t win. He can’t lose. It’s all a lose lose battle. Even in the devil’s win, he loses. And that means there is only God’s great victory. God is and will be victorious. There is much to unpack there. Christ is victorious! Even today. He was, and is, and will forever be.

So empty your head of all that nonsense you’re trying to fill it with to keep you busy, to keep your eyes focused on God. Don’t be lazy. Empty it all out so that only God can fill it back up again. Because you can’t save yourself from any of this. Only by releasing all of your own human attempts and being empty, can any of us be filled with God. And it is only through Him filling us that we can stand firm and say, “I am not afraid of you.”