Two Rooms
My dearest sister and daughter in sweet Jesus Christ. I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in his precious blood; with desire to see you a true servant and bride of Christ crucified. Servants we must be, for we are redeemed by his blood.
Make two homes for yourself, my daughter. One actual home in your cell, so that you do not go flitting from place to place, except out of some necessity, or in obedience to the prioress, or for charity's sake; and another spiritual home, which are to carry with you always--the cell of true self-knowledge, where you will find within yourself knowledge of the goodness of God. These are two cells in one, and when abiding in the one it is fitting that you should abide in the other, for otherwise the soul would fall
into either confusion or presumption.
For if you were to rest only in knowledge of yourself, confusion of mind would fall on you; and if you were to abide only in the knowledge of God, you would fall into presumption. The two, then, must be built together and made one same thing; if you do this, you will attain perfection. For from self-knowledge you gain hatred of your own fleshliness, and through this hatred, you will become a judge,
and sit upon the seat of your conscience, and pass judgment; and you will not let a fault go
without giving sentence on it.
From such knowledge flows the stream of humility; which never seizes on mere report, nor takes offense at anything, but bears every insult, every loss of consolation, and every sorrow, from whatever direction they may come, patiently, with joy. Shames appear to us then as glory, and great persecutions as refreshment; and [such a soul] rejoices in everything, seeing itself punished for that perverse law of self-will in its members which forever rebels against God; and it sees itself conformed with Christ Jesus crucified, the way and the doctrine of truth. - St Catherine of Siena (1347 – 1380)
Driven to Jesus
In my early days as a Christian adult, I perpetually struggled with legalism — the feeling that I had to obey a laundry list of rules to make God like me. It felt like He was always watching, looking for infractions, never satisfied with my performance. My relationship with Him was defined by what I didn’t do: No drinking, drugs, dating, listening to secular music or watching secular movies — no, no, no. That’s what made me holy. I was abiding by the rules but it was out of fear, not love.
If you’d have asked me back then whether I believed God really loved me, I would’ve unequivocally said yes, but it was a surface-level belief. Deep in my heart, I saw Father God as a stern law enforcement officer. Jesus and the Holy Spirit, whom I saw as much nicer, were just doing their best to help me be more obedient.
The unconditional love of Jesus didn’t become real until I finally got so exhausted by meticulously following the rules that I lost the energy to keep going. I started breaking the law, provision by provision, which left me perpetually riddled with guilt.
The good thing about my guilt was that it drove me into the gentle arms of Jesus. I finally began to see that He must have died for all of my sins — past, present, and future — otherwise, His blood was just a temporary solution that made me clean until the next time I sinned. As Paul wrote, “I do not set aside the grace of God; for if righteousness comes through the law, then Christ died in vain.” (Galatians 2:21). Either God saved me or He didn’t.
In time, I began to see that God isn’t eager to catch me in my sin so that He can bring the law down on me. Instead, He’s eager to bring me to repentance. He wants me to “get my spiritual tags updated,” if you will. He’s always pleased to give me another chance, and with that kind of graciousness, I find myself wanting to obey in response, to live in a way that honors His generosity.
Brothers and sisters, if you’re afraid that God is going to bring the force of the law down on you, don’t run from Him — seek Him out. Find Him at the “checkpoints,” of your conscience, the places where you know He’s waiting, places where you’re afraid you’ll get caught. Turn yourself in and you’ll discover that He’s there, waiting to pardon, ready to set you on the right path. - Joshua Rogers
