Revisiting The Step

I have tried all day to write this post, and I'm kind of stuck.

Could that be (I wonder) because I, myself, am kind of stuck? We've often said that a person entering physically cloistered life is either in or out. She does not stick her head in and leave her arms and legs dangling outside the enclosure door, perhaps to be brought in at a later date. I find it a helpful image, for I can so easily bring part of my life into the will of God while leaving some of me outside. I might find myself clutching this little worry, that tiny vice, that long held attachment...

Could it be that I've set up camp right on the edge of the doorway? Am I parked on the threshold of living for God - not totally out, but not totally in?

I'm helped by remembering that, in deciding to live "in God's will," I am not simply stepping away from something. I'm not just saying farewell to complacency and sin and compromise so I can become "a better person." No.

I am moving toward something. Or I should say, toward SomeONE. It is for Him that I step through the door into surrender to His will. And all the steps after - all of those stairs and turns and inner doorways that frighten me now with whispers of "but what if this happens," and "what if you lose that" - I will not have to take those steps alone. I will not be by myself as I live within His will.

As I tell God that I want to say a deeper yes to Him, something happens. Christ is the Bridegroom of the soul - and what traditionally happens when the bride arrives at the threshold?

All I have to do is let Him carry me over it in His arms.

"My Jesus, please accept the offering and the sacrifice that I make to You this day, as I once more sincerely offer to You my entire will. Tell me what You want me to do. Your holy grace will help me to do it." (St. Alphonsus Liguori) 

Painting: Vilhelm Hammershoi; 
bottom copy digitally altered using a painting by James Tissot


Text not in quotes © 2015 Nancy Shuman. 
thecloisteredheart.org    

This is a repost from our archives. It is linked to Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for 'It's Worth Revisiting Wednesday.'

The Spirit of the Convent Bade us Pause

Having found the monastery where we'd be retreating for a few days, my friend and I were led into a small parlor. The room was separated from the street by the thickness of one wall, a narrow patch of greenery, a short wrought iron fence, and a brick sidewalk. I was surprised at the sudden silence. These walls must be thick, I decided, which only made sense given the age of the building. I'd been told that this was the oldest community of Visitation nuns in the United States (this monastery having been founded in 1799).

Some communities of the Visitation are able to offer laywomen a place of silent retreat for a few days inside the actual cloister, so the ladies can go back to their families spiritually refreshed and recharged. My friend and I were embracing this opportunity. Our time apart from the world would not be 'directed,' but would simply be a chance to pray and live alongside the nuns, in their own environment, and to experience a little sampling of monastic life.  We had found our way along an Interstate (taking a wrong turn in the process), we'd snaked through DC traffic, gulped down a few rushed meals, driven round and round this one area of Georgetown before finding our destination, and now, at the edge of the cloister - we found that our rushing came to a sudden halt. 

‘The spirit of the convent bade us pause. All our worldly wisdom and ordinary knowledge seemed to take flight, and to be of no account whatever. We felt like children who have strayed into some privacy which does not belong to them, which they are hardly qualified to share.’ (A Story of Courage, p.12)

We were straying, indeed, into a privacy which did not belong to us, for we were laywoman and we'd be taking no vows. Yet I, for one, was not crossing the threshold unaware. The cloistered heart analogies I had been pondering were now, in physical form, standing right before me.  I had written that the 'enclosure' of a cloistered heart was within the will of God. We can make a choice to embrace His will, I'd said; we can make a decision to - by His grace - live within it. 'I like to use the analogy of a person entering the cloister because it is such a total move. The person entering physically cloistered life does not stick her head in today and leave her arms and legs dangling outside to be cloistered at a later date. She is either in or she is not. And yet we can give ourselves mostly to God and leave parts of our lives dangling outside that surrender.' (N Shuman)

I had a feeling I'd learn more about the analogies I'd been living with as I saw what life was actually like on the other side of the enclosure walls. 'We were to cross the threshold of the large entrance door, usually inaccessible to the world.....'

If I hoped to spend these next few days in reasonable comfort, I'd better bring every last bit of me inside.

Photo at top via Pixabay
Photo at bottom (cloister door), N Shuman - probably from Georgetown Visitation in the 1990s, but unfortunately I'm not certain of the location

Text not in quotes © 2016 N Shuman thecloisteredheart.org   


This post is part of our series 'A Story of Courage.' To continue in chronological order, click this line.

In This Land of Doors

Looking back over our last few posts, I find myself wondering.

Why are we at the door again? 

It seems I'm constantly buzzing around the doorway. I am always pondering that definitive step of surrender to God's will, and always emphasizing the fact that this is the only way into our "enclosure."

Goodness. I write and wonder and muse and analyze and analogize and write some more.

But do I ever go through?

Thinking about this today, I realized. It's true that I'm almost always at a doorway.

It's just never the same door twice.

Having given my yes to God, I am inside the door and I'm inside the "enclosure" of His will. I have made a decision, and I'm remaining (hopefully, by His grace) cloistered therein.

But I don't step into His will once and for all, then settle down inside the doorway and just stand there. There are doorways after doorways, there is hall after hall. There are doors that open onto stairways that lead to hallways that lead to more doors.

Living in the land of God's will is living in a land of doorways. My yes to God is not a one time event. That first yes led into a rather spacious hallway, and then I was called toward another door, off of which was a narrower hallway... and on and on.

Cloister of the heart is not a static 'place;' it is a land of journeying. I turn away from sin and give my heart to Jesus, then say yes to the revealed boundaries of God's will, then say a deeper yes at various points when that commitment is tested. I go through a narrower door each time I choose to live totally, not just partly, for God. I come to base my choices of lifestyle and activities on what He asks of me, not on popular culture. I accept His grace to stand for Him in the face of opposition. I learn to choose His will on happy days and sad, in sickness and in health.

Yes, I am at the door again. Why? Because I want to live "enclosed in the will of God," and mine is an enclosure of ever deepening yeses. By the grace of God, I have embarked upon a long, grand adventure, living for Him in this land of doors.

"I am ready at each beckoning of Your holy will." (St. Faustina)

"What was the first rule of our dear Savior's life?... to do His Father's will... Well then, the first end I propose in our daily work is to do the will of God; secondly, to do it in the manner He wills it; and thirdly, to do it because it is His will." (St. Elizabeth Ann Seton)

Painting: Vilhelm Hammershøi

Text not in quotes © 2015 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org   

Getting Off the Threshold

Admission: I have tried all day to write this post, and I'm kind of stuck.

Could that be (I wonder) because I, myself, am kind of stuck? We've often said that a person entering physically cloistered life is either in or out. She does not stick her head in and leave her arms and legs dangling outside the enclosure door, perhaps to be brought in at a later date. I find it a helpful image, for I can so easily bring part of my life into the will of God while leaving some of me outside. I might find myself clutching this little worry, that tiny vice, that long held attachment...

Could it be that I've set up camp right on the edge of the doorway? Am I parked on the threshold of living for God - not totally out, but not totally in?

Lent is a perfect time for getting off the fence - or, in this case, getting off the threshold. I'm helped by remembering that, in deciding to live "in God's will," I am not simply stepping away from something. I'm not just saying farewell to complacency and sin and compromise so I can become "a better person." No.

I am moving toward something. Or I should say, toward SomeONE. It is for Him that I step through the door into surrender to His will. And all the steps after - all of those stairs and turns and inner doorways that frighten me now with whispers of "but what if this happens," and "what if you lose that" - I will not have to take those steps alone. I will not be by myself as I live within His will.

As I tell God that I want to say a deeper yes to Him, something happens. Christ is the Bridegroom of the soul - and what traditionally happens when the bride arrives at the threshold?

All I have to do is let Him carry me over it in His arms.

"My Jesus, please accept the offering and the sacrifice that I make to You this day, as I once more sincerely  offer to You my entire will. Tell me what You want me to do. Your holy grace will help me to do it." (St. Alphonsus Liguori) 

Painting: Vilhelm Hammershoi; 
bottom copy digitally altered using a painting by James Tissot




Text not in quotes © 2015 Nancy Shuman. 
thecloisteredheart.org    

Linked to 40 Days of Seeking Him  

Toward Hallways Beyond

'The thing that draws me most about monasticism,' I wrote here recently, 'is its absolute totality.'

I have spent days now considering this statement. Is that what truly does draw me most? 

Yes, it is. Has it drawn me for a long time? Oh, indeed! Do I live such totality? Well

I want to. I genuinely want to. I want to move out of the wide hallway of 'on-the-periphery-of-my-life-religion' into living fully, not just partly, for Christ.

The only doorway into cloister of the heart (we've said many times) is the doorway of surrender to God. But the step across that threshold is not it a one-time-and-it's-done event. I can step now, yes; but there will be new steps to take tomorrow. I know I can't just cross that threshold and sit down. I will be called to follow Christ through doors yet unseen, around unknown turns of hallways beyond.

We are now on the threshold of Lent, and it occurs to me that this is a good time for stepping. So I make a decision to say a deeper yes, to allow God to draw me closer to Him, to take a brand new step. 

I invite you to come with me, this Lent, toward hallways beyond. Let's see what's around the bend.....

'Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.' Matthew 7:13

Painting: Vilhelm Hammershoi

Linked to 40 Days of Seeking Him








Text not in quotes © 2015 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org   

And Our Entrance is...

The thing that draws me most about monasticism is its absolute totality.  The person entering such a life gives ALL.

As I've written before, a potential postulant does not stick her head inside the enclosure and leave her arms and legs dangling outside.  It just won't work. She must make a choice.

How often do I look toward the "door of total commitment," feeling drawn toward it, while at the same time holding back? 

I enter cloister of the heart through the doorway of surrender to God. A door of  "yes" is the only way in. 

Yet (in circumstance after circumstance) I find myself vacillating. I want a print-out of all that will be asked of me before I give my consent.  I second-guess, look back, shuffle, struggle, worry, fret.

Then, timidly, I stick one toe toward that door.

…and it’s as if He suddenly, tenderly, picks me up and carries the rest of me inside.  Even those flailing arms and legs.  

"Choose this day whom you will serve."  (Joshua 24:15) 

"Jesus, I give You my whole heart and my whole will.  They once rebelled against You, but now I dedicate them completely to you…Receive me, and make me faithful until death.”  (St. Alphonsus Liguori).

"I am the Gate. Whoever enters through Me WILL BE SAFE.” (Jesus, quoted in John 10:9) 

Painting: Vilhelm Hammershoi 

Text © 2015 Nancy Shuman.
thecloisteredheart.org